


Repetition Compulsion

by MajorityRim



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Do Overs, M/M, Multiverse, Reichenbach Feels, Repeating Timelines, Soft Magic System
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21508318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorityRim/pseuds/MajorityRim
Summary: When Sebastian was 13 he and his family went on a trip to the coast. He hadn’t put much thought into how dangerous a cliff face could be. He had stopped paying attention at some point and moved too close to the edge. He’d wanted to get a rock into the water so badly that he had completely abandoned any sense of where he was standing. One little misstep and the rocks had given way underneath him.The last thing Sebastian remembered before he fell was the tight tense of his stomach as he lurched downward, and the ironically calm ocean waves on the beach.When he woke next, he was in a hospital and four days had passed.When he sees Jim Moriarty stick a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger, the feeling is similar. Only this time Sebastian doesn’t black out and the sensation of falling doesn’t leave him.But then, he's given a second chance to fix the past and suddenly Sebastian has his footing again.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran & Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 27
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is character death in this fic, but due to the nature of the story, characters dead will come back again and again

When Sebastian was 13 he and his family went on a trip to the coast. It was a boring trip and one Sebastian hadn’t been excited in any capacity to go on. Family trips meant pretending they all got along, it meant acting as if they were some happy family from the movies that wanted to spend time together and not the dysfunctional old money family subject to rumours both fake and true. His father had demanded they all load up into one of the prized old cars he collected and drove them to the coast where they’d set up a picnic blanket and ate sandwiches that had been cut into perfect little triangles by the chef that lived in their home. Zucchini and tuna with an awful dressing that Sebastian made sure not to eat. Instead he’d shoved the triangles into his pockets and kept them there for safe keeping until he could get rid of them. His mother had ignored him and his father had been too busy scolding his brother for something to even notice. 

He’d wandered off against the instruction of his nanny in the hopes of finding somewhere to toss the soggy bread in his pockets and something to do to curb off the boredom. Eventually he ended up stood on the edge of the cliff. The ocean stretched out forever, and vanished somewhere into the horizon; it was the perfect place to hide uneaten sandwiches. Once he had run out of what he’d stuffed into his pockets, bread had become rocks thrown onto the beach below. He hadn’t been able to throw hard enough or far enough for any of the rocks to land in the ocean, again and again falling just short of his goal. It was entertaining enough, as entertaining as throwing rocks in the middle of nowhere could be, but in his frustration, Sebastian had moved closer and closer to that edge, the looser rocks falling from their place to bounce downward and skitter across other rocks down below. He threw harder and harder, but couldn’t make the distance. He’d felt invincible back then, it hadn’t occurred to him that a cliff could be dangerous it was one of those ‘it could happen but not to me’ moments.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t put much thought into how dangerous a cliff face could be. Sebastian had stopped paying attention at some point and moved too close to the edge. He’d wanted to get a rock into the water so badly that he had completely abandoned any sense of where he was standing. One little misstep and the rocks had given way underneath him. 

The last thing Sebastian remembered before he fell was the tight tense of his stomach as he lurched downward, and the ironically calm ocean waves on the beach. 

When he woke next, he was in a hospital and four days had passed. 

When he sees Jim Moriarty stick a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger, the feeling is similar. Only this time Sebastian doesn’t black out and the sensation of falling doesn’t leave him. 

Sebastian abandons his position. He leaves his rifle where it is in the stairwell, he doesn’t care about the scene that might be found he can come back for it later. He bolts down the stairs four at a time, builds up so much momentum that when he reaches the end of each flight of stairs he has to grab the banister to throw himself around the corner or take the wall that he’s running straight into. He darts across the road without looking for traffic, hits the hood of a car with so much force that he hits the car in front as well but doesn’t falter, doesn’t stop no matter how much his leg and sides protest from the hit. He climbs up new stairs, throws the door to the roof open just in time to see that bastard Sherlock throw himself from the top. Sebastian thinks he might shoot John Watson anyway. 

Jim’s body doesn’t move. There’s a smile on his face, eyes wide but they no longer contain that vicious, fiery spark that Sebastian loves so dearly. 

He’s seen many bodies in his life, lost all sorts of friends, but it’s Jim that pulls a sob from Sebastian. He’s never cared, about the dead, it’s always been a part of his life, but Jim on the ground slowly growing cold is something entirely different.

Sebastian stands there in the door for several long minutes. He can’t work out how to walk over; all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears and maybe behind that the shouts of people below on the ground. The scent of blood is overpowering even from where Sebastian stands, it stands out stark against the grey dirty roof that Jim has chosen to die on, pooling out as it follows the natural path of the roof. 

He stumbles forward through that blood and falls into the puddle. The blood soaks into his jeans greedily; Sebastian doesn’t care, at least he’ll have something of Jim at the end of this all. He reaches out to check for a pulse, as if this is just some sick joke, part of Jim’s plan that he didn’t share with Sebastian before walking out the door that morning. 

There’s no pulse. Sebastian should have known as much, it isn’t like Jim Moriarty to do anything in halves. He just wished that he knew why Jim did it. Everything seemed fine— as fine as Jim could have ever been. He’d been a mid more manic but he’d also had lots of work to keep him happy. 

Sebastian doesn’t know what he missed in Jim for this to have happened, but he hates himself for it all the same. 

When the police come to the roof Sebastian is still there. He has Jim in his arms and Jim’s blood all over his clothes. He tried to put it back in, as if maybe putting the blood where it belonged would undo such a thing but instead all he gets for his efforts is concerned shouts to step away from the body. He shouldn’t have tried on the roof, should have collected all the blood and bits up and taken Jim somewhere safe. Maybe to their safe house in the east-end, Jim likes the view from there, it always puts him in a good mood to be able to look over parts of London that he owns.

Sebastian’s arms tighten around Jim as the shouts grow both more concerned and more persistent. He won’t let him go. He let Jim go off on his own and look where it got them, he’s not going to let go a second time. He knows he won’t get to see Jim after this, the moment he’s out of Sebastian’s arms he’ll be gone forever. 

Damn Sherlock Holmes and damn his snotty brother.

Sebastian is lucky that Jim did such a good job at convincing everybody that he was some poor little actor being manipulated by Holmes. When they realise who’s dead on the roof things get a little calmer, the police aren’t so concerned about the man covered in blood crying and cradling Jim’s broken head. The soft voices are worse, he’d rather the police forcibly try and drag him off Jim so that he can break a couple of noses and necks. He wishes that they’d come with guns drawn so that he could be shot dead and join Jim on the roof.

“Get away!” His voice carries across the roof and over it, Sebastian sounds more like a Colonel than he has in years as he holds Jim tight to his chest. “Don’t get any closer! Don’t you dare fuckin’ touch him!” 

“Sir, you need to step away from the body, everything is going to be okay, but you need to step away so we can help you.” Sebastian can’t even register who is speaking too him, everything is too much of a blur. There could be four or fourteen police on the roof with him he can’t see past his tears to tell. 

“Get back!” 

Sebastian is sure he can hear the sound of machine guns in the background, somewhere down on the ground. 

It’s been so long since he’s heard the war. 

Somebody eventually coheres him into putting Jim onto a stretcher, they let him walk beside the body as a compromise. They load Jim up into an ambulance and Sebastian sits beside him and holds his hand. It takes Sebastian everything he has not to take the ambulance by force and take Jim somewhere safe.

He leaves when they reach the hospital. He knows if he sticks around Mycroft Holmes will have him arrested. The man’s got no heart, he wouldn’t let Sebastian have any time to grieve. He promises Jim that he’ll find his body, that he won’t let up until he’s found it. Jim would laugh at him if he were awake, if he were alive. 

Sebastian leaves the hospital and heads straight for a pub. He doesn’t leave until they kick him out by physically dragging him out into the alleyway to sober up by a dumpster. 

Sebastian doesn’t lose four days and wake up in hospital this time, but he does lose close to a month to bottles of whiskey and rum. There’s a numb void around him, he sits on the couch staring at the blank screen of the TV. The remote for it is right beside him but Sebastian can’t be bothered turning it on. Nothing that’s on TV gives him anything anyway. There’s bottles are stacked on the table pushed close together to make room for each new one, there’s a blanket on the floor from where he’s been sleeping. Jim always hated feet on the couch, unless they were Jim’s feet of course. 

Jim’ll skin him alive if he breaks that rule. 

The food in the fridge has long since expired. Sebastian hasn’t opened it since he got home. Take away boxes litter the floor, built up like walls around the living room wherever he can reach from the couch. He’s knocked a couple over but never picks them up. 

Everything is sticky but at least the ants love it. 

Sebastian has a beard now. Jim always hated it when he had facial hair, but he doesn’t see the point in shaving. He hasn’t changed his shirt in a week, hasn’t showered in longer. The curtains are drawn and he can’t tell what time of the day or night it is. He’s always tired, can’t seem to find the will to stay awake except for the times he tries to sleep where the roof expands out into an endless plain of eggshell white and becomes an hours long movie that he can’t look away from. 

He only leaves the house when he runs out of things to drink. The reporters that were camped outside his house have stopped doing so, they learnt quick that the boyfriend of Richard Brook didn’t want to talk and wasn’t prone to being polite about such. There’s still the brave one or two with their cameras across the street but they don’t move forward to ask him questions anymore. 

They always wanted to know more about Sherlock that ‘Richard’ anyway. Sebastian never wants to hear either of those names again.

Sebastian heads to the shops to buy more whiskey. He pulls himself up, rifles about for his wallet in the couch for ten minutes before he finds it hidden behind last nights bottle of drink. He might buy a microwave meal to put in the freezer and forget about, but he’ll probably just buy the whiskey and go home. If he gets really hungry he can probably find something he doesn’t need to cook in the pantry. He knows there's still some canned soup in there and as it turns out you don’t need to heat it up for it to be edible.

He locks the front door only because Jim’s such a tightarse about security. The walk to the shops is a blur, he stumbles along the footpath and people avoid him, some crossing the road to get around him. Those who don’t he sneers at in the hope that somebody will pick a fight with him. Fighting’s the only thing that lets him feel. 

The blood always makes him feel sick, but then he’s thinking about Holmes and he gets mad enough that no amount of blood or shouting can make him stop a beating. 

The man behind the counter serves him even though they both know that he shouldn’t. Sebastian isn’t currently drunk, but he’s sure there’s still alcohol in his system. He throws the money down and leaves with his plastic bag, three bottles and a frozen pizza weighing it down. 

Sebastian is halfway home when a woman steps out of a small unassuming bookshop and greets him. 

“You look like a man who could use a friend.” She says. She has a pleasant smile and light blond hair that’s tied up haphazardly. She also looks genuinely concerned. She has a armful of books that she moves to place in a display outside the shop. “Why don’t you come inside for a cup of tea?” 

“What?” Sebastian doesn’t really know what to say apart from that. He’s got a bag full of alcohol and looks about as shit as he feels, he can’t say that he looks like somebody anyone should approach. He doesn’t know why he’s giving her the time of day, should just tell her to fuck off like he does everybody else and continue on home. 

“A cup of tea. I’ve got a good assortment, some of my own leaves as well, come on, pop inside.” 

Sebastian shifts on his feet and frowns. He looks between the woman and her shop. It’s the first time he’s spoken to anybody in a long time and it feels like he’s lost the ability to make real conversation. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can see it, see all sorts of things. You miss him, don’t you?” 

Sebastian stiffens, his whole body locking up. 

“I don’t want to talk about Richard Brook.” 

“But maybe you want to talk about Jim?” She asks, “absolute mess he made, wasn’t good of him at all to just up and leave like that.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Come inside, love. Have a cup of tea.” 

Sebastian is sure that before he leaves he’ll have to deal with the woman. He’s not sure if she was on his payroll, there were lots of people on Jim’s payroll, but he’ll have to make sure she keeps her opinions quiet and to herself. He’ll give her whatever she wants, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Sebastian’s probably only got a couple of months left in him anyway. If she’s looking for money he’ll give it to her. She can have the whole damn empire for all Sebastian cares. 

“Alright.” 

He steps inside with his bag and realises that it isn’t some bookstore. It looks more like one of those magic shops where people sell crystals and tarot cards and those sorts of things. Sebastian doesn’t think much of it either way, standing over a display full of what’s essentially shiny rocks. The woman doesn’t take long to come back inside, she closes the door and ushers Sebastian further into the shop behind a curtain to a couch and small kitchenette. 

“Sit down, Sebastian, I’ll make us a pot.” 

“How do you know my name?” 

“Jim mentioned it quite a bit. You made an impression on that man, didn’t you?” Sebastian doesn’t know how to reply to that so he doesn’t. He sits himself down and sets his bag down at his feet.

“I really shouldn’t meddle in such things but I’ve always been somewhat of a rebel.” She continues when Sebastian doesn’t speak. “Now obviously you can’t go about telling people about this because it’ll put me in a spot of bother, but you really had quite the affect on him and it seems such a shame that out of all the goes you two might get he goes and throws this one away.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Ah yes getting ahead of myself.” She pours water into two tea cups, bringing one over to Sebastian. “Milk one sugar just like you like it.” She says sitting it down on a coaster, directing Sebastian to sit on the couch. 

“One moment, I’ll just go get it.” 

She leaves Sebastian there with his tea just the way he likes it, vanishing back into the storefront to find whatever ‘it’ is that she’s talking about. Sebastian is pretty sure he should just get up and leave, there’s every chance that he’s about to get shot or stabbed or even drugged. He looks down at the tea and decides he doesn’t care. 

It’s a good cup of tea, and there’s nothing that tastes like poison or any drug he knows of, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there. He’s learnt from Jim that there’s plenty of poison’s that don’t have a detectable taste. 

Sebastian doesn’t feel any closer to dead though, so it’s probably safe. 

The woman comes back in with a small wooden box and sits beside Sebastian with eager eyes. 

“Now, how much do you know about magic, Sebastian?” 

“Like Harry Potter?” 

“A little bit, I suppose. There are magic spells and the like.” 

“What’s this got to do with Jim?” 

“I can send you to him.” She says. 

So she really is going to kill him. Sebastian wonders if this is part of Jim’s plan; wonders too if it’s supposed to be a mercy killing or if Jim knew that Sebastian couldn’t be trusted to keep the empire running after his death. He’s surprised it took a month. Maybe that was an imposed deadline he didn’t know about; one month to get his shit together and continue on the work. Or maybe she really is just after Jim’s empire for herself, but then again Sebastian is sure he would have heard of somebody like that. There’s plenty of eccentrics out there,it doesn’t surprise Sebastian that there’s this woman who likes to poison people and call it magic. Adds a touch of flare, Jim would have liked that, he did apparently. Sebastian’s still surprised he’s never heard of the woman but then again with the list of employees he knows Jim had maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise. 

He’ll take the bait, who cares what happens to an old lonely drunk? 

“So how’s that work then?” He asks, sitting his cup of tea down. She opens the box and pulls out a small silver spoon from it’s lid. 

“I mix it in with the tea,” She explains. “And you drink it.” 

Sebastian isn’t sure why she feels the need to call it ‘magic’ but he’s willing to take whatever she’s about to kill him with. He doesn’t believe in any kind of afterlife, but it’s either this or nothingness and nothingness seems better than the ache he feels whenever he thinks of Jim. 

“Yeah, right’o,” He watches as the woman takes a spoonful of some powder from the box and puts it in his tea. 

“Now, think of Jim, it’s important to focus on him.” 

“Yeah.” Sebastian shrugs. Like he thinks of anything else. 

He picks up the cup, and thinks of Jim. He thinks about the last day he saw Jim, getting ready for his stupid game with Sherlock sitting there eating toast with his morning coffee and talking a million miles a minute. He’d been smiling, laughing at something dumb Sebastian had said. Sebastian couldn’t remember whatever he’d said to make him laugh, but he remembered that laugh. Light and lilting. His eyes always lit up when he laughed, snorting into his coffee as Sebastian continued whatever it was he’d been saying. 

Sebastian drains the cup and sits it back down. He closes his eyes, ready to slip off completely. 

Jim’s laugh fills his ears, and when Sebastian opens his eyes, he’s sitting in their kitchen over breakfast. 

“What the fuck?” 

Sebastian sits at breakfast across from Jim. Jim himself has a piece of toast in one of his hands, coffee is on the table from where he’s just snorted it everywhere while he chokes on his drink as he laughs. 

“It was funny.” Jim says with a shrug. He’s nonchalant and not at all concerned. “I love that stupid joke.” 

What the fuck. 

Sebastian looks around him, and then down at his mug. He can’t tell if he’s hallucinating or dead, pinching himself to check. The pain doesn’t do anything to answer his questions, he’s not sure what he expected. 

“Everything alright there Tiger?” Jim’s got his giggles under control, watching Sebastian with curious eyes instead. It wouldn’t take a genius to tell that something is wrong. He focuses on the smell of toast and coffee and tries not to think about how the last time he saw Jim he was covered in blood.

“Uh, yeah.” Sebastian nods eventually finding his words. He stares at Jim, his hand trembling on the table as he tries to get a hold of himself. He moves it to his lap, digging fingers into the soft part of his thigh. 

Sebastian doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, but whatever is he’s glad at least that he can see Jim again. He knows from last time that he’s only got a few minutes left with the man and suddenly he stands. His chair falls backwards as he surges forward and grabs Jim, wrapping arms tight around him to hug. 

“Sebastian.” Jim’s arms stick out awkwardly from where Sebastian has grabbed him where he’s sat. Jim’s coffee is dropped and the mug shatters on the tiles below him. Jim’s whole body is tense as Sebastian refuses to let go, it isn’t as if they share moments like this, Jim’s never been great with affection but Sebastian can’t bring himself to pull away. 

“Stay home today.” He means to sound more casual, like he thinks nothing of it, but it comes out as a plead.

“Sebastian you know today is an important day, we can’t just change our plans because you’re feeling— what is going on?” 

“Stay home.” Sebastian repeats. “Jim, just fuckin’ stay home today.”

“No.” Jim shoves him. It’s ineffectual, but he pushes against Sebastian’s broad shoulders. “Let me go.” 

“No.” Sebastian parrots. “Jim, please, stay home today.” 

“Sebastian Moran today is the most important day of the year, did you forget we’re dealing with Sherlock today? Remember the plan? You sit there and kill his precious little Watson if he doesn’t jump? I’ve been working on this for months, I’m not changing my plans because you want a hug.” 

Sebastian thinks back to that awful moment. Jim in his sights, the gunshot breaking his attention on John Watson. 

He can’t lose him again, not even in a hallucination, not even if this is supposed to be hell. 

Still, he knows if he doesn’t let go of Jim he’ll likely just get stabbed. 

“Please” He says again. He pulls away reluctantly to look at Jim. He feels so real in Sebastian’s grip, so real that he must be. He has to be real. He’s still warm, still has all of his blood. Sebastian wants to run his hand through Jim’s hair just to feel that he’s still in one piece. 

“This isn’t a discussion, Sebastian. I’m not going to stand here and argue the details with you.” Jim chides. “I don’t care what’s going on in that head of yours, I’m going ahead with my plan, and you’re going to be in position if things don’t go right.” 

Sebastian knows if Jim walks out of that door he’ll lose him, but he knows he won’t be able to keep Jim from leaving. Jim would sooner kill him then lose his game with Sherlock, and if Sebastian’s dead he can’t stop Jim from killing himself.

But right now he can. Right now he has that opportunity.

“I’ll get your coat then.” Sebastian nods. He leaves to fetch it, he slides his hand into the pocket of the coat and takes Jim’s gun out and puts it under his own pillow instead. He’ll deal with that problem later tonight when Jim’s back home. He’ll talk to him then, try and have a real conversation about what’s going on. He has no idea how he’ll explain things but he’ll find a way. All that matters is that Jim lives, that he survives Sherlock. 

He brings Jim’s coat to him and slides it onto his body. Sebastian kisses the top of his head and holds him close for one more moment before letting go. He’s taken the gun, Jim can’t shoot himself now. Still, Sebastian knows that he needs to be there in position just like before. He’ll be able to watch from his vantage point, Watson be damned. Everything will play out up until that point he’s sure. All Sebastian has to do is keep an eye on Jim, make sure Sherlock doesn’t try something when Jim realises that he can’t shoot himself. 

Jim walks out the door, and Sebastian is sure he can hear the waves crashing against the beach. He looks down to check just in case but the ground is solid. He’s not falling, everything is going to be okay. 

Second time’s a charm hopefully. 

An hour and a half later with his rifle resting in his shoulder, Sebastian watches Sherlock Holmes approach Jim on the roof. He wants to put a bullet in the man, an irrational anger shooting through him that’s almost uncontrollable. It would be easy, one bullet and Sherlock Holmes would be dead. 

He needs to let Jim have his victory though, he knows Jim needs this; he won’t be whole without it. 

It’ll be good to celebrate the victory with Jim after Sherlock is dead. He didn’t get to enjoy it last time, barely registered the man jumping. 

Sebastian watches as Jim slides his hand into his pocket as he shakes hands with Sherlock. His heart seized in his chest as he watched the silent scene play out through his scope. Jim’s hand slides into his pocket, but stills as the man realises that his gun is gone. Sebastian can see him laughing, speaking to Sherlock as if he’s explaining exactly what he was about to do. 

The two of them walk back towards the edge of the building. 

Jim stands up on the edge of the building, he throws his arms out like he’s on the Titanic, King of the world, he spins on his feet to look at Sherlock. 

Sebastian’s frozen he doesn’t know what to do. 

Just as easily as Jim shot himself, he throws himself off the top of the building. 

Sebastian screams. 

It takes him fifteen minutes to make it back to the store with the woman. There’s a different woman behind the counter, and as he throws the door open making her display rattle she does little else but look up and nod. 

“Here for a cup of tea, love?”


	2. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian tries again. This time he thinks further back, tries to get a leg up on the situation.

This time When Sebastian goes back he thinks of a time years before Jim shoots himself. He thinks back to the pub they used to go out to for dinner when both of them wanted something a little rowdier, when they were both looking to pick fights; Jim picking fights for Sebastian to get into, and Sebastian always making it worse by running his mouth. He focuses on the sound of drunk men and women, thinks of the uncomfortable stickiness that the pub had by the end of the night. Thinks about the always decent food that managed to bring them back time and time again. 

They stopped coming at some point, Sebastian can’t really remember why. Maybe he’ll try and keep the tradition up this time.

Things snap back into focus on one of these nights; Jim has some good fish and chips in front of him, Sebastian has the steak. By the end of their meal there’s a high chance that Jim will have swapped over their plates. He’s always so fickle about meals, never knows what he wants to order and insists that he isn’t that hungry. It isn’t until he actually sees how good Sebastian’s steak if that he’ll want one of his own. He won’t just admit he was wrong and order himself new food either. 

Still, Sebastian isn’t going to complain, getting Jim to eat anything is like pulling teeth. He’s a snotty little brat who never wants to eat his vegetables, only he’ll happily eat the ones off of Sebastian’s plate provided they’re covered in a good bit of steak sauce or gravy. It’s not that much of a loss to swap for the fish and chips, especially because Jim makes the most delighted face when he thinks he’s won. 

As if Sebastian wouldn’t give Jim the world if he asked for it. 

“—Anyway, we’ll meet with the Italian’s tomorrow and see how it all goes. I changed my mind I want you there.” 

This time it isn’t as hard for Sebastian to recover, he knows what’s going on or at least knows that he’s somehow ended up in the past with a chance to fix things and stop Jim from dying, he just needs to work out when he is. 

“Alright boss,” He replies, spearing a carrot onto his fork, “Should I bring a gun?” 

“Make it a knife.” Jim hums. His eyes are on Sebastian’s greens, Sebastian pushes his plate over to let the man take one for his own. “They always check for weapons, but they aren’t very good at it. One of your better knives would be hard for them to notice.” 

Sebastian nods. Knife no gun, pick something that’s easy to conceal and expect problems. Jim takes what he wants off Sebastian’s plate and pushes it back over. Sebastian leans over the table and takes one of the chips from Jim’s plate as payment, running it through the sauce on his own plate before he takes a bite. 

“What time is it again? I might have to shift a few things around.” Sebastian lies. He has no idea what he’s got on tomorrow, isn’t even sure of what year it is or what month. He’d pull his phone out to check if Jim wasn’t likely to pitch a fit. The hypocritical little shit has always had a problem with Sebastian texting at the dinner table. He might go take a piss and check later, but for now he’s just glad to be back with Jim. 

“10 am,” Jim is still eyeing Sebastian’s plate. Sebastian doesn’t hand it over, let the little fucker actually come take it. “Though they won’t show up until closer to 11, they’re always late, like to think that if they keep me waiting they seem important. What they don’t know is that I’ll be adding it to my fee, see if they continue to run late then.” 

“Is that the trouble you’re expecting then?” Sebastian asks. He can’t resist the urge to reach out for Jim, but the frown Jim gives him makes him pull his hand back. Maybe not that long into their relationship then, if at all. “Them being mad for the extra charge?” 

“No they’re getting too big for their boots, assuming they’re more important than they are. When I tell them that they’re not, they’re likely to get mad.” 

“Ah.” Sebastian nods, steals another chip. He can do this, act like it’s normal, act like his heart is racing just for seeing Jim. “So you’re going to intentionally piss them off then.” Sebastian tries to remember back to the meeting, but in a sea of endless clients and jobs it’s hard to remember one that apparently didn’t stand out in the long run. Sebastian doesn’t even know what year it is. He kept Jim alive once before, he can do it this time around as well, that’s not his concern. What Sebastian is concerned about is working out some way of preventing that whole business with the Holmes brothers from ever happening in the first place. 

He wonders if Jim and he are dating yet, if they’ve crossed that thresh-hold or are still toeing around the issue. 

He really needs to work out what year they’re in. 

“You had too much to drink, Sebastian?” Jim eyes him and then the half finished beer on the table. To be honest, Sebastian does feel pretty light headed, but he has no idea how many beers in he is, how many he’d had before He had shown up at the table. 

“Maybe.” He admits. “Might be a cold.” 

Jim sniffs and pushes back on his chair as if that would save him at all.

“Could have mentioned that before I helped myself to your plate.” He grumbles. 

“Sorry boss.” Sebastian’s almost sure it isn’t a cold and has a feeling that it’s not the alcohol either, but what does he know about time travel or whatever the fuck it is that has him here. Is it his soul transferring back? Jim used to talk about this kind of shit when they were both absolutely plastered but fuck’d if Sebastian can actually remember or understand any of what the other man had said. He thinks instead about back to the future, which seems a better bet. 

Surely time travel would mean two Sebastian’s. Does he have to kill the other Sebastian? But then he wouldn’t be here if there were two, he’d be somewhere else and past Seb would be here. Maybe it is his soul going back? If he’s got a soul does that mean there really is a heaven and hell or some approximation. 

He feels sick, it’s all too much to try and understand when he’s got no idea where to even start. 

That long dealt with Catholic guilt builds up inside him, and Sebastian’s not sure he wants to know the answer. He downs his beer to clear his mind, muddy his mind, whichever option works best and tucks into his steak. 

Jim becomes more interested in avoiding Sebastian’s germs then making conversation, and they eat in silence. Jim pulls out his phone to work and Sebastian avoids the temptation to pull his own out. Not that Sebastian minds the silence, he’s just glad to see Jim again. Glad to see him alive and no where near that damn roof. If he can make just enough of a change now maybe that’ll never become an option for Jim. Maybe Sebastian can find a way to gently direct Jim down some other path. Chase some other high that isn’t Sherlock. 

That sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grows and Sebastian finds that fighting his dizziness with more beer isn’t really helping as much as he’d like it to. Jim looks up at him every so often and laments the loss of a perfectly good steak he could have stolen. It’s normal; nice even, and Sebastian’s afraid he’s going to lose it all again just as quickly as last time. 

He has to keep it together, he reminds himself. Jim doesn’t like it when Sebastian clings, he’d like it even less if he knew just how much Sebastian loves him now, compared to where they might have been at the start of the meal. 

He will protect Jim though. He has to. 

As they leave the pub they are greeted by a slight drizzle. Jim grumbles about his hair and Sebastian pats himself down to see if he’d shoved an umbrella into his jacket before leaving the house. There isn’t one, but Sebastian does find a set of car keys so he assumes that they drove. That’ll be helpful, Sebastian’s had a few cars over the years and knowing which one he has will help him pin down what era of their lives he’s returned to. He presses the button on the keys to try and spot the car, hearing the telltale double beep just down the road.

“Let’s get you out of the rain, yeah?” Jim grunts in response, reminiscent of a soaked kitten. 

When Sebastian sees the car that the keys belong to, he frowns. It’s a deep blue BMW, not a car that he ever remembers owning, and not one of Jim’s fleet cars for business. He stares at it in confusion trying to place it, but he’s sure that there’s never been one in his or Jim’s possession. Had it been some gift from a client Sebastian had forgotten about? Was it a hire car for some reason? 

Jim clicks his fingers in Sebastian’s face snapping him out of it. 

“I’m getting wet, Moran, get in the fucking car and take me home.” 

Right. Home. What if that’s changed too? Where the fuck are they living? What year is it? Christ fuck Sebastian needs to work shit out before he drives them to the wrong address.

“Actually boss, I’m not feeling the best maybe you should drive.” 

“You know very well I don’t know how to, Sebastian.” Jim calls from the passenger seat looking like an unimpressed toddler who just wants to be taken home for a nap. “Get in will you?” He doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for waiting, though when is Jim ever?

“I’m serious, Jim, I feel like I’m about to be sick.” Sebastian can’t risk looking like he’s lost his mind, Jim will put a bullet in him. 

“God not in my car you won’t.” So it is one of Jim’s fleet cars. “I’ll call somebody to collect us, you can pick the car up tomorrow and drive it home then. If there’s a parking ticket on it, it’s coming out of your wage.” 

Not drive you home or drive me home, drive us home. So Sebastian and Jim are living together and going on their little date nights, which means it’s at least a few years into Sebastian’s employment, but they’d had those ‘date nights’ before anything serious had happened between them too. 

As soon as he gets home he can work it out. 

“I’ll take full responsibility.” He promises. Jim waves him off with an unimpressed hush as he dials for somebody to pick them up. Sebastian stands out in the rain and waits to try and bring himself back down to earth. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks down at the set wallpaper. It’s one of the generic ones and apart from now knowing that it’s April he can’t guess all that much. There’s a pass-code he has no hope of remembering and the phone itself still has buttons so it’s still early days, but frustratingly he still doesn’t know what year it is. He’ll find a paper or magazine in their apartment and work it out, Sebastian needs to know the full date, otherwise he’s got no hope of getting things together well enough to help Jim and stop his death. 

Sebastian stares up at the rain and lets it wash down his face. Jim ignores him from the car nice and dry. Things for a moment feel just the way they always were. He itches for another drink but tries to ignore that call. There’s no reason to get plastered on the couch anymore. He has Jim to think of. Jim’s all that’s on his mind. 

He’s back in their apartment the next time he blinks, impossibly tired and still in need of a stiff drink. The weight of yesterday, or whenever in the future that it comes pressing down on him and smothering him to the point he can barely stand. At least he remembers this apartment, at least now he knows where he is. 

Mid two thousands maybe, could be a little earlier. Jim liked this apartment, they stayed here, stay here, a long time. 

Christ Sebastian is tired. 

“I’m going to go lay down.” He mumbles, headed for his own bedroom.

“Mn, good idea.” Jim calls back absently. He must have looked over because he seemed more pleased when he speaks. “Yes sleep in your own bed tonight, that’s a good idea. I can’t afford to get sick ever, let alone now.” Sebastian pauses briefly at his door. So they’re at the point where they’re sharing a bed. He’s piecing things together more and more, and wishes desperately that he could sleep beside Jim but for now he just needs to rest. They’ll share a bed tomorrow. He’ll hold Jim again. 

There’s a knot the size of a fist in his throat. He wants a drink. 

Sebastian is asleep before he hits the pillow, doesn’t even get his shoes off. 

If he dreams at all, Sebastian dreams of Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this is going to be a chapter fic ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian wakes feeling a hell of a lot better than he did the night before. The fatigue from last night has all but worn off completely and he’s up before Jim in a routine that he’s happy to fall back into. Up with the sun, put the kettle on, make Jim a nice hot coffee and go over any briefs he has for work. It’s something that Sebastian knows he can rely on, something that has never changed in all the years that he’s worked and lived for the man.

It takes Sebastian a little longer than usual to find his way around the kitchen, he hasn’t been in this house in years and his memory isn’t a vault like Jim’s is. It’s not bad, he’s still able to remember things fairly easily as he opens cupboards to look about, but he knows Jim would be chastising for taking so long if the man was actually awake to do as much. He opens cupboards at a guess, not always right but able to find everything he needs eventually. He has a small laugh to himself when he pulls down the closest mug and remembers just what will happen to it in the future. There’ll be a scar on the right side of his temple from where it hits him one day, when he walks in on Jim having an absolute tantrum and gets in the way of the mug as it’s thrown at the wall. Jim’ll clean him up and chastise him for being home early from a hit, then mumble an apology and Sebastian will let him know that it’s alright but next time to just call him and he’ll torture the mug until it can’t take it anymore.

The memory is tainted when Sebastian remembers just what Jim was having a tantrum about. It seems that Sherlock has his grubby little hands around more than Sebastian ever realised. He’ll fix that though, see if he can’t just guide Jim away from all that tosh and keep him safe. He goes back to making Jim his coffee and tries his best to focus on what he has now; the man he loves alive and well, and far away from Holmes or any of that time in their collective history.

He welcomes the normality of it, even if there’s something that feels not quite right about the whole situation. He keeps bumping into things, opens cupboards to find plates instead of mugs, or finds the spoons where the forks usually go.

Not everything can be the same he supposes. Sebastian’s just glad that Jim appears to be the same as ever as is his coffee order. Hot, black, and sweet enough to kill a diabetic.

When Jim does emerge from the bedroom bleary eyed and hair a mess Sebastian’s heart seizes. It’s something so small and something he hasn’t seen in months and it catches Sebastian off guard. He wants to move forward and hold the man, wants to breathe him in, remind himself that it’s going to be okay this time, that he has another chance, that he won’t fuck this one up.

Jim gives him a puzzled, grumpy look before his eyes zero in on the coffee mug on the counter. Sebastian holds it out for Jim to take, not really knowing how else to stop himself from acting on his thoughts.

“You feeling better then?” Jim asks, taking the mug. “That’s good, I didn’t want to have to call somebody else to fill your position.” He sips at the mug while Sebastian does his best to get his shit back together. “I need to work out how to clone you, if I had a hundred of you maybe everything would run smoothly.”

“If you had a hundred of me I wouldn’t be special anymore.” Sebastian counters. Jim rolls his eyes.

“Don’t assume you’re special, Sebastian, nobody likes a big ego.”

Sebastian refrains from asking if that’s why so many people seem to dislike Jim only because he’s still working out just where their relationship stands at the moment. He doesn’t want to playfully insult his partner and end up with a knife in his arm from his employer.

“I’ll work on it.” He lies instead. Jim laughs as if he doesn’t believe him and leaves with his mug.

“Be ready to go when I am.” He instructs. “If you make us the late ones I’ll castrate you.”

Sebastian gives a ‘yes-sir’ and makes himself some breakfast. He’ll be ready with time to spare, he always is. Jim always takes so long to get ready and there’s still plenty of time before they actually have to leave. He showers and changes, noting that just like in the kitchen some of the products in the bathroom have either changed from Jim’s tried and tested preferred options, or simply changed locations. Maybe Sebastian hadn’t noticed those sorts of things originally; he hadn’t cared all that much if he were honest. They’re just different from what Jim ended up using in the end, he can still remember what cologne Jim was wearing the day he killed himself as if it’s there burnt into his nose.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind Sebastian can see just that. Jim on the roof, Jim plummeting to the ground.

Not this time. Sebastian’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Third time’s a charm.

Even if he has to kill Sherlock Holmes himself.

His heart-rate has skyrocketed, Sebastian can feel it pounding against his chest as he thinks about the man who ruined their lives. How long had Jim been chasing Sherlock before Sebastian knew about it? What if it’s already too late and they’re already headed down that road years from now where Jim will take his own life just to beat the bastard?

And is this what Jim’s obsession had felt like? Will feel like? An uncontrollable urge to seek Sherlock Holmes out?

Sebastian wastes half an hour going around in circles, trying to rationalise his thoughts. It doesn’t leave all that much time to put himself back together for the meeting. He’s glad at least that everything in his room is set out the same as he remembers, he’s never really changed the order of things, clothes always in the same drawers, weapons always organized with the same system. It means that Sebastian can focus more about the problem at hand, about finding a way to solve the ‘final problem’ as Jim always liked to call it.

There isn’t anything interesting about Sherlock Holmes, the man isn’t even Jim’s greatest adversary, he’s a tiny portion of their lives, a fly that overstayed his welcome, and Jim will be none the wiser if Sebastian gets rid of him before there’s ever a chance to run into the man.

At least Sebastian is still running on time, he waits sitting on the edge of the couch for Jim to come back out, late as always, though always running on time according to his own clock.

Jim pauses as he exits his home office and stares at Sebastian like he can read his thoughts. It’s not unusual for the man to bore into Sebastian and read him like a book, but there’s something unnerving about it now that Sebastian has something to hide.

“You still look like shit.” Jim comments plainly. “But at least you look more presentable than usual. Looks like all my pestering finally paid off.” There’s something about Jim’s tone that puts Sebastian on edge, but he ignores it. His mind is still reeling from everything that’s happened, from his plans for the days ahead. Jim’s always trying to find some way to poke or prod at Sebastian, it’s long been a game of his to get under Sebastian’s skin; that’s all it is.

“Maybe I’m trying to impress you.” He counters. Jim snorts and shrugs.

“It worked. Not about to drop my knickers for you in the hallway though, dear.” For a moment it feels like he’s back with Jim the first time around and Sebastian can’t help stepping forward to wrap an arm around Jim’s waist. Jim raises an eyebrow and jabs him sharply in the ribs.

“We aren’t that familiar yet.” He scolds. “Try again in a few years.”

Sebastian doubts he can wait that long, but Jim’s always enjoyed playing hard to get.

“Maybe I’ll try again after the meeting, see how well that goes.”

They take the same car from the night before, Jim slipping into the passenger side only after Sebastian opened the door for him, instantly on his phone, deft fingers rapidly sending texts out to all sorts no doubt. Orders for the day, keeping his empire running. Sebastian is sure that this Jim would be over the moon to find out that one day phones lose their buttons and become touch screens, that he’d be able to send an email via his phone, that he could just about run his entire empire off one if the case arose and he needed to get away to do it. That he’ll need to do that in the future and will remark on how he could have never done as much before.

“Anything I should know about the meeting today, Boss?”

Jim doesn’t look up from his phone as he shakes his head, before glancing up to Sebastian as if he’s only just registered that he’s being spoken to.

“It should be a very easy meeting, the Rossi family are long standing clients, though usually I deal with the head of the family and not his son. I have a sneaking suspicion that Rossi senior isn’t supposed to know about this meeting. It’ll likely play into our favour, given that his son is a complete idiot. I’ve met him a total of twice and both times I wanted to throttle him with my bare hands.”

“That’s not saying much, plenty of people you want to choke.” Sebastian jokes. “What about him makes him such a prime target for Moriarty’s wrath?”

“He’s annoying. Old money who assumes he deserves the same respect as his father despite having done nothing to earn as much.” Jim’s attention is back on his phone, his voice flat as he only half pays attention to the conversation.

“Easy target for you then.” Sebastian agrees. “Could be fun for us if nothing else. Start a little feud in house.”

“Mn, not really. I enjoy working with Rossi, he’s got more money then sense, lets me fun projects that are more for pleasure than business.”

“Ah, so he’s your sugar daddy.” Jim stops his texting and shoots Sebastian a scandalized look.

“God no, the man looks like a prune was repeatedly smashed into a brick wall. All the money in the world couldn’t get me in bed with him.”

Sebastian laughs and soon enough Jim laughs along with him. They travel the rest of the way in silence, Sebastian letting Jim think and Sebastian himself trying to clear his mind for the meeting to come.

As they stand just outside the warehouse they’re supposed to be at, their clients running late as Jim predicted, Sebastian lights up a cigarette and keeps an eye out for any trouble. There are a few men and women about, some obviously carrying guns under jackets or in pockets, others not so conspicuous in their criminal intent, but none that look like they’re there to cause trouble outright. Jim will have his own men about of course, though none of them are as stupid to stand out in the open and parade themselves about for everyone to see. Two on roofs at the very least, more easily accessible if things go south. Sebastian can’t remember the meeting still and hopes that that means nothing is about to go wrong, that the knife he has on him will stay sheathed and they won’t be dealing with a potential bloodbath. He wishes he could remember the exact details, what the hell is the point of going back in time if he can’t even remember what happened the first time?

He keeps his eyes on the small scattered crowd, even and steady puffs of his smoke a ritual of sorts before a job. Those near them are talking in hushed Italian which is a joke if they’re trying to keep their conversation private. Both Jim and Sebastian speak it, though Jim likes to keep that a secret to use in dramatic reveals whenever appropriate. Sebastian always gets a laugh out of seeing a person’s face when Jim returns a snarky comment in their native tongue.

The two they can hear aren’t talking about much, complaining about their boss running late, complaining about the weather which is fair because it looks like it’s going to rain hard, and one of them is talking idly about the rugby from last night. Sebastian has mostly tuned them out when he sees Jim incline his head just slightly, obviously interested by the conversation, his own eyes flicking back over to see just what has caught Jim’s attention. Better safe than sorry when he doesn’t know how the meeting will go.

“That Holmes man,” the taller one says, “He keeps coming back. I said we should put a bullet in him, Rossi doesn’t want it though.”

“He has too many friends in Scotland Yard, and he was more interested in something else, not us, if we leave him alone he’ll leave us alone.” The second one shakes his head.

This can’t be happening, not so far away from the end.

“Think it’s going to rain.” Sebastian says as calmly as he can. He wants to pull Jim’s attention away, wants to stop him from ever thinking about that man again, or to start with. Jim only hums in return, his attention still clearly on the two men.

“Might pour, sky’s going to open right up.”

“Shh.”

“Isn’t that a new coat?” Sebastian guesses, it’s the start of the season, it’s possible, “It won’t like the rain much.”

_“Shh!”_

“Should have brought an umbrella, don’t you think?”

“Sebastian Moran what is your problem?” Jim turns his gaze back to Sebastian, obviously unimpressed. “Since when have I enjoyed small talk, hm? Of course it’s going to rain, it always rains in London, it never stops raining in London.”

“Uh, right.” Sebastian nods, but he’s glad to see that the two Italian’s near them have stopped talking, curious eyes on Sebastian and Jim instead. “Sorry boss.”

“Sorry boss.” Jim mocks, irritated. “Just shut up and stand there.” Sebastian knows that the man is just sour that he lost an interesting lead, but he also knows that Jim will likely move on from it soon enough and he’ll be forgiven for interrupting. As soon as something else shiny catches the mans eye. He’s hopefully helped Jim avoid Sherlock Holmes, even just for a little bit. He won’t let his second day back be the point that Jim starts chasing the bastard down.

That something shiny comes in the form of their client finally arriving. The man who gets out of the car looks about as self important as Jim does on any given day, but Sebastian doubts that there’ll be anything to back that up. He swaggers over like he owns all of London, like he’s got a portrait in the palace and goes to visit the Queen for tea on Sundays, gives Jim a once over and turns his attention to Sebastian.

“You didn’t say anything about a bodyguard.” His accent is thick, but it’s not hard to understand him.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t bringing one either.” Jim shrugs. The man has a good half a foot on Jim, but it’s still obvious who the more dangerous of the two are. Their client is too stuck up his own arse to notice that, but he’ll look quick smart when he sees just what Jim can do. “You didn’t mention you were bringing one either,” Jim adds to counter his point, “So we’re both even Stevens.”

The man scoffs and laughs like a schoolyard bully. Jim bites his tongue and says nothing of it, instead making a show of checking his watch.

“You’re late.”

“By your watch.” The man shrugs.

“And by your wallet, Mr. Rossi” Jim absolutely delights in the look that gets him, Sebastian glances around to see if they’re about to have any trouble.

“You think you’re gonna charge me for you waiting around?”

“Not think, know, and yes.” Now it’s time for Jim to act like he’s there for tea every Sunday, “We agreed on ten, you pay me from ten. I believe when you scheduled an appointment with me you said ‘money talks’” He pops the ‘k’ of talks, slow and drawn out, enjoying every moment.

“Could just ring your daddy and tell him what you’re up to.” He adds coy and low, seizing control in an instant. “My privacy policy doesn’t apply until we’re officially signed into a contract, Mr. Rossi The scowl on Rossi’s face says it all, but his bodyguard is the one to speak.

“We were caught in traffic, Mr. Moriarty, we apologise for keeping you waiting.”

At least it seems like one half of the duo knows how to behave. Jim accepts the apology with a nod.

“Shall we go inside then?”

The four of them head into the warehouse together, inside what looks to be a usually bustling packing building now empty for the mornings meeting. There are far too many places for somebody to hide in Sebastian’s opinion, but it also means that if things go pear shaped there’ll be plenty of things to hide Jim himself behind. Rossi and his bodyguard converse a little in Italian as they enter, Rossi is scolded, reminded that Moriarty holds a position of power in the city and is well respected and it’s a credit to Jim that he doesn’t thank the man or take the opportunity to brag, instead choosing to keep his Italian a secret for a while longer. Instead he comments on the design and layout of the warehouse, idly offering suggestions here and there as they all head up two flights of stairs to a Foreman's office to talk business.

“Now, Mr. Moriarty. Like I said we want to expand our business a little, but there’s all sorts of competition in London.” Rossi has schooled his tone by the time he sits down on one side of the table. Jim takes a seat on the other, Sebastian standing behind him, uncomfortable with facing away from the large windows that overlook most of the warehouse.

“There is,” Jim agrees, “There’s always been a lot of business for counterfeiters though; it’s an over saturated market, really.” He gestures towards the book in front of the man, no doubt a record of all the things that are packaged within the warehouse. “Expanding won’t necessarily get you more money, it’ll likely cost you more unless you’re able to capitalize on the right counterfeits.”

“And what might they be?”

“The meeting today is about expansion, I’m not here to go over your inventory.” Sebastian suppresses a smile. It’s a trick that Jim uses commonly, dangles a piece of information just out of reach to bring a client back for more work; and most of the time it works a treat. Within the week he’s sure Jim will have another meeting lined up to help fine tune business.

“Ah, right of course.” Rossi nods. “How would you expand then?”

“How I’d expand and how I suggest you do are two different things. Different businesses you see?” Jim shrugs coy and utterly in love with himself. “There’s a lot to be lost when expanding like you want to, upset the wrong people and you risk them retaliating and ruining your entire business model.” He’s not really answering any questions, enjoying taking his time and charging them more money, but by the end of it the Italian’s will be singing his praises.

“Which way are you expanding? And whose land are you looking to encroach on?” He asks.

“We aren’t looking to cause any waves here. There was talk of an opening in France.”

“Ah France, I charge extra for international affairs, you should have mentioned that before hand, I’ll have to up my fee.” Jim charges extra whenever and for whatever he pleases, Sebastian’s sure it has more to do with wanting to cause trouble than any supposed additional fee.

The Italian’s confer for a moment. Apparently daddy Rossi won’t be all that jazzed about an additional cost, but son Rossi wants to take the risk. He’s going to be head of the family one day, he ought to have the right to run business now.

They’re playing right into Jim’s hands and they don’t even know it. Might as well be playing poker with their hand exposed while Jim cheats right under their noses.

“I hope that’s not too much of an ask? I’m sure brute force won’t go too horribly if you’d rather not use my methods. Or I’m sure your father has some contacts over there, start with him, he’s got a good handle on business already, why not involve him in expansion?”

Cheeky little bugger. Sebastian has missed this. He’s hit with a sudden well of emotion and as he shifts on his feet to try and get himself back under control Jim glances just barely over his shoulder.

“An additional fee is fine.” Rossi just barely hides the growl that comes with the insinuation his father need be pulled into his business. “No problem.”

“Well then, lets talk business shall we?”

They talk numbers and semantics for a while and Sebastian largely tunes out, focusing instead on his surroundings, on looking out for trouble. He’s not needed for these parts of the negotiations, he’s there much more for muscle when Jim’s talking numbers, there’s nowhere for him to give him input, nowhere he’d be useful in the conversation.

Unfortunately, it means Sebastian has time for his mind to wander.

His mind wanders back to what he’d heard before, the two men discussing Sherlock Holmes, and wonders if there’s any real way to find time to track down the detective and kill him. He knows that hunting the man down will be difficult because every little whisper about the man seems to get back to Mycroft Holmes, but Sebastian is sure it’s worth the risk and anyway—

“Moran if you’re done catching flies.”

Jim’s crisp, unimpressed tone stops the wandering thoughts and brings Sebastian back to the present, or past, or whatever it is that he’s supposed to call where he is.

“Sorry sir.”

“You’re lucky that our clients aren’t the type to draw a gun on a man mid meeting.” Jim sounds about as convinced about that as he is in the concept of the afterlife and gestures towards the door, though he says it in front of Rossi and his bodyguard so he can’t have been too concerned, “It’s time to leave, if you’re done taking a nap on company time.”

“Right. Sorry Sir.”

Sebastian knows he’ll get an earful for it once they’re back in the car. He deserves it too, he knows how many times he’s saved Jim from a prickly situation, and how many of those times there’s been others in the room there to protect Jim that have missed obvious cues because they’ve let their minds wander. He opens the door for Jim and steps out, letting Jim through a moment later once he’s sure that it’s safe to do so.

“Everything alright there, Tiger?” Jim hums low under his breath as they head down the stairs back towards the car.

“Tip top.” Sebastian replies, not really sure how he’d explain what was going on if he could. “Probably just that bug or whatever it was from last night still.” Jim makes an unimpressed sound but doesn’t probe him any further, doesn’t have a reason to.

“Take us home then, I’ll have somebody come pick me up for the rest of the days meetings.”

“Jim-”

“Not up for debate. It isn’t like you not to notice when somebody is playing with a knife in their pocket most of a meeting.” Sebastian frowns at that.

“What?”

“Exactly.” Jim sighs like he’s a long suffering parent, “Go home and get some rest, you’re only the second most dangerous man in London when you’re actually able to focus on things, Sebastian. I’m not dying because my body guard needs to take a sick day and won’t admit it.”

“Jim I’m fine.”

“Hardly. Take me home, I’ll call in Peters or Callaghan, you need to rest.”

It’s kinder than what Sebastian would have expected for this period of time, but maybe it marks the shift between their relationship, when Jim finally began to show an ounce of human emotion for once. Sebastian is glad for it, in truth he probably does need time to rest, and to be completely honest he’ll probably use the time alone to work out just where Sherlock Holmes is. If he can track the man down he’ll know how to keep Jim away from him.

They head home in silence which isn’t completely unusual for any part of their relationship, though Jim stops Sebastian before he gets out of the car with a hand on his forearm.

“Something is different about you.”

Of course Jim would be able to tell, though Sebastian’s sure that not even he could guess just what was happening.

“Like what?” Sebastian offers in hopes it’ll quell some of Jim’s concerns. The last thing he needs is Jim thinking that he’s up to something. In all fairness he is, but it’s certainly not as sinister as Jim’s mind might go to.

“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll work the out soon enough. If you’re hiding something from me I’ll know eventually.”

Sebastian gives him a crooked smile and nods. Jim frowns at that and removes his hand from Sebastian’s arm to get out of the car.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs a rest, Jim.” Sebastian offers casually, not all that concerned that Jim will be able to piece together that he’s a time traveling sniper from the future. Jim scoffs and shoots back a glare.

“Go take a nap, Moran. We can talk about what’s different with you after I’ve finished with all my meetings. Don’t think I won’t be able to work it out, I always do.”

“Of course, Jim. Don’t go picking fights while I’m not there to shoot anybody for you, alright.”

“Don’t tell me how to have fun.” Jim chides. “Go get some rest so I can have my bodyguard back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much has happened in the world since my last update, but I'm back finally -finger guns-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes matters into his own hands

Sebastian waits until Jim leaves with Callaghan to attend his next meeting. It’s a good thing that Jim doesn’t come back into the room once Sebastian’s gone to lay down because he’d probably realise that something is up; that while something is undoubtedly off with Sebastian at the moment, he’s also planning something behind Jim’s back. Sebastian feels sick for lying to Jim, he can count on one hand the times he’s done it and every time felt like he actually had the flu. It probably says something about how Sebastian views their relationship, shockingly healthy not to want to lie to Jim, though lying so that he can go murder somebody negates anything healthy that Sebastian might have been able to argue in this case. 

Sebastian lays there in bed and pretends like he’s trying to get some rest until he hears the door close behind Jim, counts to one hundred just to make sure that he doesn’t come back inside for something he’s forgotten and gets out of bed with one goal in mind. 

Track down Sherlock Holmes and put a bullet between his eyes. 

London is a big place, and Sebastian has never really paid that much attention to Holmes’ history, never cared for it given that it drove Jim half mad and to his death. He figures the best place to start would be his old address, see if the man is still kicking about there or if he’s yet to move in with his dear old housekeeper. He’s not sure what he should expect if Sherlock is there, the man’s a genius that much Sebastian can’t deny, but he also knows that given the time-line it’s possible that he hasn’t met John Watson yet which means his protective little army doctor won’t be there to try defend the man. It’s the perfect time to strike, really. If Sebastian lucks in and Sherlock’s there, it’ll be the perfect opportunity to get rid of him. No protection, and hopefully no reason to suspect that anybody might be coming for him. Sebastian’s sure that Sherlock has always had enemies, but none quite so deadly as Jim Moriarty, none quite so desperate as Sebastian himself. 

Sebastian just hopes to god that Jim doesn’t have his eyes on Sherlock yet, otherwise it might get back to Jim that Sebastian has gone and killed his newest project. If that’s the case, he’ll have a whole lot to explain and no real way to do it. Jim will think he’s gone mad if he tries to explain what’s happened in the last- what- forty eight hours? Sebastian needs to take the risk though, he can’t not take the risk. He’s doing this for Jim, for them. He needs to keep Jim alive. 

He takes his phone, a knife, and a gun, and heads towards Baker Street. 

There’s a lump in his throat as he approaches the address. Sebastian doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do when he sees the man, what Sherlock might do when he sees Sebastian. Will he already be aware of Sebastian and Jim? Will he be there at all? He pulls up in front of 221B and looks up at the building. He remembers the first time Jim dragged him here, drunk and running off the high from some job well done, snickering about how this was going to be his new big project. Sebastian hadn’t thought much of it then, assumed that the building was on good land, that there was some official living upstairs or some new client that Jim was going to force into hiring him for fixing a problem that was probably Jim’s fault to begin with. He’d had no idea of the absolute shit storm that it would lead to. 

Not this time though. This time Sebastian’s going to put an end to it before it even begins. He’ll burn the whole building down if Jim ever mentions it, raze it to the ground so that there’s nothing left of 221B for Jim to even think about. 

Sebastian has never been this nervous about a hit before. Maybe it’s because he’s going behind Jim’s back, because he doesn’t know what will happen if he changes their path so drastically. What becomes of Moriarty if Holmes is dead? Where will it lead Jim? Sebastian already knows that no matter what happens he’ll always be by Jim’s side, he’d follow him to the ends of the earth, but just where does this take Jim? 

It doesn’t matter, Sebastian needs to take that risk to make sure he saves Jim. He can’t watch him die a third time. 

Sebastian gets out of the car and takes several deep breaths. If Sherlock is up there he has to be ready. If not Sebastian will keep looking, he’ll search all day if he has to. 

The stairs creak as he climbs them, he remembers Jim complaining about it, saying that it ruined his grand entrance. Sebastian wonders if Sherlock can tell that there’s a man here to kill him just by the way Sebastian ascends the stairs. Probably, Jim always warned Sebastian to be as careful as possible whenever they were dealing with Sherlock. Usually it wasn’t a problem, Sebastian would be up on a roof watching from a distance that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to see him from; he’d never been this close. 

It doesn’t matter, Sebastian tells himself, Sherlock won’t be able to tell shit with a bullet in his head. 

Sebastian feels like he’s walking through molasses, his legs are heavy and barely do as he wants them to, he’s going against everything Jim would want and it’s physically painful. For all his resolve to kill the man, Sebastian realises this might be the most difficult hit of his life. Not because of any technical difficulties, not because of the distance or security he has to get past, but because this is the first time he’s gone behind Jim’s back to kill somebody. He gives himself a moment on the stairs, counts to ten, reminds himself that it might not be what Jim would want, but it is what’ll help him going forward. 

When he does finally reach the door Sebastian considers knocking. It’s the polite thing to do, the type of thing that Jim would get a kick out of, but Sebastian isn’t there to gloat or make threats and then disappear, this is the first and last time that Sherlock Holmes will ever meet him. He considers kicking it in and shooting the man on the spot too, but he knows that’s too risky. Jim would kill him just for being a fool. He doesn’t need to lose his head over this.

Sebastian doesn’t knock, instead twisting the handle of the door to find it open, carefully pushing it in to step into the room. 

It’s undoubtedly Sherlock Holmes’ home. It’s messier than when he lives with Watson, more chaotic, probably because he doesn’t have the doctor to pull him out of whatever the hell mess he’s caused in the living room, but all that means is that it’s likely Sherlock doesn’t have a roommate at all at the moment. Nobody to clean up after his messes, nobody to keep him in check. Jim had much been the same when Sebastian first moved in; brilliant minds aren’t meant for such mundane things as cleaning or keeping things in check. 

“Tea?” Comes the voice from the kitchen. Sherlock’s out of view at the moment which is a safe bet given that Sebastian’s here to kill him. 

“No thanks. Not really a tea drinker.” He replies. There’s the sound of a kettle being picked up, and moments later Sherlock Holmes emerges from the kitchen with a teacup in hand and wrapped in a dressing gown that looks like it’s seen better days. He’s more gaunt, and Sebastian realises that he’s probably on something which if anything works to his advantage. Sherlock won’t be able to fight back, won’t be as quick as usual. Pity, really, seems like a cheap kill, but at least it means it’ll all be over and done with quickly. 

“I’m not taking consultations at the moment.” Sherlock hums, stirring his tea. 

“Not here for one.” Sebastian shrugs. 

“Mn, thought as much. Upset the wrong people have I?” 

“Not yet.” Sebastian sees no reason not to be honest. Sherlock will be dead in a couple of minutes and really it feels good to admit as much. “Preventative measures. Got to make sure everything pans out the way it ought to.” Sherlock frowns at that then nods. He doesn’t seem to know who Sebastian is, but accepts the answer all the same. 

“Can I know who you’re preventing for ever meeting me? Easier ways to keep me out of their line of sight, surely.” 

“Don’t think there is.” Sebastian replies. “I’ve seen what happens if you two meet. Couldn’t care less if it ends in you dying, but I’m not watching him die again.” 

“Again?” Sherlock raises an eyebrow but he’s too high to make any real sense of what Sebastian is talking about. Stalking further into the living room, Sebastian draws his gun and aims it squarely at Sherlock. 

“You’re the reason that he died. Dies. I’m putting an end to it so he’s got a better chance at making it.” Sebastian will do anything to make sure Jim never ends up as obsessed with anyone as he does or will, or had with Sherlock, he’ll keep him out of harms way, he’s sure that’s why he’s been given all these chances to make things right. 

“Ah-” Sherlock says as if he understands everything now, “-You’re suffering from some kind of delusion.”

“I fucking wish.” Sebastian bites back. Sherlock takes a step towards Sebastian but stops when Sebastian removes the safety from his pistol, keeps it trained on Sherlock ready to fire at anytime. His heart rate is so loud that he can hear it in his ears, blood pumping, whole body tight, too tight to take a decent shot but this close up it doesn’t really matter, he can’t miss, and if he doesn’t kill Sherlock with one shot he’ll just riddle him with holes. 

“Don’t fucking move Holmes!” He shouts. Sherlock freezes, keeps his hands up where Sebastian can see them. 

“Who are you trying to protect.” 

“Somebody you’ll never meet.” Sebastian spits back. He needs to pull the trigger, he has to pull the trigger. 

Jim’ll hate him for it, he’ll never forgive him. 

“This won’t end with me.” Sherlock tries to negotiate. “If whoever you’re protecting is supposed to die with me, it doesn’t seem wise to tempt fate.” 

“Fuck fate.” Sebastian growls. “I’m changing the game, I don’t care. I won’t have you kill him again.” 

The gunshot surprises him, even though he was the one who pulled the trigger. The tightness in his chest doesn’t shift, not yet. 

Sebastian watches as a shocked, not quite sure Sherlock drops the teacup from his hand, as the tea spills from the side just before it hits the ground and shatters, as Sherlock falls with it gasping wet rattling sounds as he bleeds out on the carpet. Not a clean shot, not Sebastian’s finest work, but if anything that’ll work to his favour. Jim won’t be able to tell it’s him because he’s been so sloppy. 

Sherlock uselessly tries to put pressure on his wound, tries to think of some way to survive no doubt, to make it out of this one alive. 

It’s absolutely not going to happen. 

Sebastian doesn’t have long, the street below is crowded enough that somebody will have reported the shot, and being Mycroft’s brother the police are sure to arrive at any moment to save the doomed detective. Sebastian steps over the gasping, dying Sherlock and empties the rest of his magazine into Sherlock to make sure he’s well and truly dead. He’s careful not to stand in the blood, more careful to make sure he collects each casing and leave no evidence behind. He won’t be undone by his own desperation, Jim would evict him from the house. 

“Sorry Jim.” He mutters as he climbs out to the fire escape. Already he can hear sirens in the background, but he knows that he’ll be gone long before any of them arrive. 

He gets into his car and drives off in the panic of people trying to escape, it isn’t hard to blend in there, to look like some civilian fleeing what could be an active shooter on the loose. Sebastian knows just what he has to do to get away, he’s done it dozens of times before, it’s easy to slip away without being noticed. He heads for home and lets out a breath of fresh air. `

He’s fixed it. After this everything is going to be fine. He just needs to adjust to his new life in the past, work out where he’s at and everything will be fine. He’ll grow old with Jim, keep the madman out of trouble, do whatever it takes to protect him. 

Sherlock Holmes is gone, he can’t take Jim away from Sebastian. 

It’s finally over.

He’s halfway home when he gets the call from Callaghan. 

Moriarty has been stabbed, the meeting went south. As it stands, Callaghan won’t make it himself. 

“What the fuck do you man, Moriarty is dead?” Sebastian hisses down the phone. He nearly veers into traffic in his anger, unfocused on the road.He can hear the roar of his heartbeat again, suffocating him. 

“It was a setup, they just wanted to collect on a bounty.” Callaghan sounds about as shit as Sherlock did dying. Sebastian absolutely refuses to believe that fate has played a hand in this. It’s coincidence. It can’t be because Sebastian changed the past, but some horrid part of him wonders if it’s possible, if he’s killed Jim indirectly because of his actions.

“Who was the meeting with?” He realises he should have checked that information before he let Jim give him a sick day. Before he let his need for revenge lead him to lying to Jim. 

“Lavigne, some bastard from France.” 

Sebastian’s blood runs cold. He remembers that job, remembers the blood bath it had been. As it was he’d barely got Jim out alive himself, and he’d ended up on bed rest for near three months. 

He hangs up the phone and takes a sharp turn. He needs to get back to that shop, needs to fix this, he can fix it. 

In his rush, Sebastian doesn’t pay enough attention, the car that hits him sends him careening off the road, his car rolls, glass going everywhere as he does. Somehow he can hear the roar of his blood pumping through his ears through all of it, and then he can hear nothing but a sharp high pitched sound as metal screams across pavement and into the wall of a shop front. When the car stops moving Sebastian can see already that his arm is broken, his leg feels like it’s trapped underneath him, hanging upside down in the now totaled car. 

He needs to get out, needs to get to that store. He can fix this, he just needs another go. 

People rush to try and help, he’s pulled out by a man who tells him that he’s a paramedic, that everything is going to be alright, but backs off when Sebastian draws his gun. It’s empty, wouldn’t do Sebastian any good but the people around him don’t need to know that. Usually he wouldn’t be so reckless, but he’s about to go back and prevent all this so it doesn’t really matter. He’s still got his knife and he’ll kill anybody he needs to to get back. As long as he can make it to the shop everything will be fine. 

The shop isn’t all that far, and luckily it’s his arm that’s broken so running isn’t as much of a problem as it could be. It still hurts, still burns to run there, but he makes it, slams through the door and bars it with his body while a distressed looking woman behind the counter comes out to confront him. It’s not either of the women he’s seen before, but it doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter right now, not when he’s battered and bruised and needs to get back to Jim. 

“Give me the tea.” He demands, out of breath and barely able to keep upright. His head is spinning, he still feels ill from the night before, all the blood loss and his broken arm isn’t helping that at all. 

“You can’t travel like this, it’s not safe.” She replies somewhat flustered. Sebastian points the gun at her but she seems unaffected by it. 

“It’s not loaded.” She states, quickly recovering from Sebastian’s unexpected entrance. It isn’t his appearance that’s caught her off guard, but that he’s there are all. Sebastian pulls his knife out instead. 

“This doesn’t need bullets,” He grits out. “Give me the tea. I need to fix it.” She gives him a dubious look but vanishes behind that curtain. 

“This won’t be easy on your body, you aren’t supposed to travel like this.” The woman scolds as she comes back in with a mug gently steaming with the tea. 

“Just give it here.” He growls. She obliges and steps back.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Sebastian down the tea as fast as he can, it’s scalding, burns his throat as he forces it down and tries to pinpoint a moment he wants to go back. He’s in too much pain to concentrate properly, has no idea what to do, what to think, tries instead just not to think of a time when Jim had been injured, tries to picture something safer, some time boring, when everything was fine. 

Everything goes black, and a moment later, Sebastian wakes in bed with a shout, his whole body convulsing from the pain.


	5. And Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian tries again, determined to get it right this time.

Sebastian twists in agony, arches up in the bed in a dark room and shouts. His whole body screams out, body twisting unnaturally as he tries and fails to get away from the pain building up inside of him. It feels, ironically, like he’s been hit by a car; run over in the street and then run over several more times just to prove a point. He thrashes, head colliding with the bedside table in a dizzying sudden flash of white as he loses what was probably dinner down the side of the bed between the offending object and the mattress.

On the other side of the bed a lamp is turned on and weight shifts against him, blankets pulled off as a tired, put out, Irish lilt mumbles something akin to concern.

“Bastian if you’re having a nightmare I’m going to stab you until you stop moving.” Jim grumbles as Sebastian heaves off the side of the bed making a right mess all over the floor, wall, and bed. “Jesus, are you- God that’s disgusting.” Sebastian can feel Jim get out of the bed but there’s little he can do but cry out in pain again as another wave of unbearable pain runs through him causing him to twist in the bed again, rolling from it onto the ground and into his own sick.

“I’ll call a doctor.”

Thank Christ he’s in a time period where Jim cares enough about him not to just shoot him in the head for the inconvenience of waking him up. Sebastian makes a weak sound that’s supposed to be a thanks as pain convulses through him in sharp hot bursts like somebody is standing over him stabbing him with the world’s hottest pike. He can hear Jim out in the hall but is in too much pain to concentrate on the words. His whole body is hot, sweating, and yet he’s freezing, laying there in vomit too sore to move away, to weak to get his arms to push him up just enough to get him to move even just enough to push his face out of whatever dinner was.

Sebastian hopes that Jim stays out in the hall, lest he see Sebastian like this in such a shit condition. Jim hasn’t turned on any lights which he’s thankful for because he doesn’t think he could take any amount of light right now, not with his body already so overwhelmed. As it is Jim’s voice is already too loud and the light from the lamp too bright; though Sebastian can tell that Jim is speaking quietly into his phone, is fills his senses, takes over any amount of space around Sebastian that isn’t currently being occupied by pain.

He shouts again, twists, manages to roll away from the vomit. His eyes are wet, unable to stop the tears that prick there, his body unable to fight it’s own coping mechanisms.

Jim steps back into the room and turns the light on overhead. Sebastian winces and tries to physically retract from it, shielding his eyes. To his credit, Jim turns the light back off, hums lowly and steps back into the room.

“You aren’t having a heart attack are you?” He asks. Sebastian almost laughs, probably would if he weren’t in so much pain. The sound that comes out is much more strangled as he manages to communicate that no, he’s not. It’s more of a gasp than words, a grunt in the right tone that disagrees with Jim’s statement. Not a heart attack, more like a full on assault on his body.

“Well, at least that’s something. Doctor should be here soon. I told them three minutes, think you can hold out that long?”

Sebastian’s not sure of anything, really, but he nods. He tries to blink his eyes open, force himself to focus on anything but the pain. He can see Jim’s feet, his pale ankles just barely peeking out of pajama bottoms. It must be cold outside, Jim only bothers with clothes in bed when it’s really cold, uses Sebastian to keep him warm for the rest of the year. He tries to focus on that, one Jim’s wellbeing, but another wave of pain crashes over him and suddenly Sebastian feels like he’s being drowned by it.

Maybe he is. Maybe this is what the woman meant by Sebastian regretting his decision, about him not being in any shape to drink the tea.

“Don’t roll in it, Bash, you’re far too heavy for me to drag to the shower.”

It’s only because Sebastian’s known Jim for so long that he can tell that Jim’s worried about him. He tries to reassure the man, but before he can his body gives up trying to stay conscious, and shuts down for it’s own good.

He wakes up with a drip in his arm, and morphine blessedly numbing his body. The vomit down the side of the bed has been cleaned up, Sebastian doesn’t turn his head to check, it’s too physically worn out for that, but the smell of chemicals is strong enough to tell him that nobody would be able to find any shred of evidence left behind. Jim’s cleaners only know one way to clean down a room, after all, and that’s like they’ve been hired to deal with a crime scene. Jim is sitting at the small desk they have, one leg crossed over the other looking like the boogieman in the dark, only the light of his phone illuminating his face.

“No wonder kids are afraid of the dark when there’s monsters like you about.” Sebastian rasps in way of letting Jim know he’s woken up. Jim looks over and raises an eyebrow before letting out a low hum with a short nod.

“If children knew who I was and what I was capable of they’d never turn their lights off.”

“Wouldn’t flatter yourself like that, Jim, you’re no monster under the bed.”

“No, but you could pass as a ghost for how white you are currently.” Sebastian lifts a heavy hand up to look at himself, though it’s too dark to really see. He hears Jim click his tongue and looks back up to see the man walking over. Jim stops to flick the lights on and Sebastian grunts, bringing the same hand up to guard his eyes.

“Fuck Jim, turn it off will you?”

“Doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with you, has no idea what caused that little outburst.” Jim replies, leaving the light on as he comes to sit by Sebastian’s covered legs.

“Don’t look at me, I’ve got no idea what it was.” He answers truthfully. He really has no idea why this time it hurt so much. He’s got his hunches, but it doesn’t make sense that he’d have all that pain with nothing to show for it. “Maybe something left over from a nightmare? I’ve woken up with pains from them before, but never like that.”

“What were you dreaming of?” Jim asks. Sebastian hesitates, doesn’t know if he should tell some approximation of the truth or leave it be.

“I’m not sure. The war, I think.” He says instead.

“It’s been a long while since you’ve dreamt of that.”

“Maybe that’s why it affected me so bad,” Sebastian shrugs. His whole head feels like it’s rolling as he does, body numb and heavy, but at least not in pain. “Can I still keep the morphine?” He jokes after. Jim snorts, but nods.

“It’s just enough to get you through the night. If you wake up in more pain you’ll need tests, as it is the doctor only gave it to you because you were still in pain when she arrived.”

“Oh, I thought I’d lost consciousness.”

“You had, you were writhing about still, but not entirely responsive.”

“Weird.” Sebastian frowns.

“Mn, yes.”

Sebastian is sure that it’s because of what’s happened, but it’s not like he can tell Jim that; the man will think he’s gone mad, especially with all the pain he was in earlier. The last thing Sebastian needs is more bed rest than what’s required. He needs to be up and about, needs to work out exactly when he is so he knows exactly what to expect from everything.

“I feel a lot better now.” He offers.

“That would be the morphine, I’d wager.” Jim looks tired as all hell, so Sebastian pats the bed beside him.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll be alright for the night.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to get back to sleep, I just wanted to make sure you were going to wake up again before going to the office to work.”

“Worried about me, Jim?” Sebastian jokes.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, I needed to know if I should post an opening for a bodyguard online.”

“Trying to replace me before I’m in the grave? I’m hurt.”

“If you were hurt you’d be rolling about and vomiting all over my floor.” Jim replies curtly, standing up. He’s shown enough emotion for one night apparently, Sebastian’s sad to see him go, though he knows he won’t be able to convince the man to stay.

“I’ll be right by morning, don’t worry about me.” He assures.

“You’d be lucky to be right by lunch, Moran, just rest. I’d rather you rest fully and be back on your feet, then push yourself and be unavailable for longer.”

“Yes Boss.”

“That’s more like it.” Jim turns the light off as he leaves, as much as Sebastian hates to admit it, he’s glad to be left alone. As much as he doesn’t want to let Jim out of his sights, as much anxiety as that builds up in him, his body is screaming at him to get more rest. Jim is right, he needs to rest fully so that he can be back where he needs to be; he’s not doing Jim or himself any favours by forcing himself to stay awake, or forcing himself out of bed when he’s clearly not ready for it.

When he next wakes, Sebastian feels a lot better. Still not particularly ready to face the day and murder a man, but certainly better than writhing on the ground in agony. Not that it’s hard to get much better than that. He can see the sun in all her glory trying to push through the curtains and can hear Jim in what’s probably the lounge complaining over the phone. Something about a job or a client, Sebastian’s far too spent to properly listen in and try to work it out. He closes his eyes back over and wishes he could get more sleep, but he can’t risk looking too unwell, who knows what he’ll accidentally change this time. He needs to be ready in case something is coming up, unless some event is about to happen that he’s got to protect Jim from.

His body protests as he forces himself to sit up, even more-so when he removes the IV from his arm so that he can continue out of the bedroom. Best to show Jim that he’s doing alright, even if Sebastian knows that’s far from the truth.

“You should be in bed.” Jim interrupts his phone conversation to say as much, looking over at Sebastian as he shuffles out into the lounge. “No not you, shut up.” He adds down the phone.

“I’m fine. It’ll be better for me to be up anyway.” Sebastian counters quietly. He walks over to join Jim on the couch assuming that it’s probably a safe move if they were sharing a bed and Jim had cared enough to call a doctor rather than kicking Sebastian out to writhe in another room while Jim slept on completely unaffected. Jim gives him a look that comes to something along the lines of ‘once this call is over I’m going to detail exactly why you should be back in bed’ and continues on with his call.

If he ignores the whole time travel whatever thing that’s happening, Sebastian feels pretty much the same as any time he loses a fight. Worn down and embarrassed at the fact that Jim needed to call in a doctor, but otherwise fairly okay. Jim’s fine, so what really is there to bother him aside from an ache that doesn’t want to go away.

He can do it this time. He just needs to be more careful.

If he were Jim, he’d run some sort of test. See just what changing things did, but Sebastian can barely keep a track of the last four days let alone everything he and Jim have ever done together. He remembers names when he hears them, can remember the rough placement of plates and forks in cupboards, but he can’t remember dates and times like Jim does. His memory isn’t good enough to know how drastically he’s changing things just by doing something different.

Once Jim is off the phone, he turns his attention to Sebastian, critical eyes washing over him like Jim can see straight through him, not that that’s something new.

“If you’re going to insist on walking about, I don’t want to hear any complaints about how you’re sore, unless you’re having an actual heart attack and need an ambulance, understand?” _I care about you_ it means, _and I think you’re making a mistake but I know you’re too pig headed to listen to reason._

Sebastian smiles and nods.

“Of course. You won’t hear a peep out of me.”

Jim nods back and splays himself over the couch. Sebastian can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that boredom is setting in, and it won’t be long before Jim starts to complain.

“Slow work week?” He asks casually.

“Slow work month. I absolutely hate when a new gang starts up in London, they’re always so bad for business. Everybody has to get out there and posture, act like they’re the ones in charge and that they don’t all come running to me any time they have a problem to fix. Can you imagine a world where they had to all do it themselves? A world without me?”

Sebastian’s throat tightens, he does his best to play it off.

“Not a world I’d want to be in.” He hums. “Wouldn’t be able to pay me to stay.” Jim gives him a look before letting out an irritated sigh.

“They’ll be back soon enough, they always come back. I just hate it when they run off to play on their own.”

“Focus your efforts internationally. There’s always somebody who wants something done outside of England.”

“Oh yes thank you I hadn’t thought of doing that.” Jim replies snarkily. Sebastian does his best not to smile, though his best isn’t enough to stop the fond look he gives Jim. “Oh don’t give me that look, I absolutely hate it when you look at me like you’re about to propose.”

Sebastian laughs at that. It hurts to do so, and not just because he still feels like utter shit. He knows what happens when he asks that question, what it does to Jim.

_'I’m not like you, it wouldn’t work.'_

It had been one of the few times Sebastian had seen Jim look truly regretful. He’d vanished for months, only come back because Sebastian had tracked him down and begged him to come back. Told him that he’d never ask again, that it had been a mistake to ask, lied and said that he didn’t really want to get married anyway, that he’d just been trying to fit that normal little box everyone lives in.

He’d love nothing more than to marry the man across from him, but Sebastian will keep his promise, he’ll never ask again.

“God Sebastian don’t look so upset, it’s just a joke.” Jim breaks the silence by standing back up. Sebastian can tell he’s feeling flighty, as if he’s preparing to leave right now just in case Sebastian does ask.

“Marriage isn’t really my thing.” Sebastian shrugs, “I’m not upset, just sore. Don’t worry boss, I don’t plan on ever getting down on one knee.” Jim mutters something under his breath but he does look less flighty now. Jim’s phone rings before the man can give some snarky reply, drawing his attention away instantly.

“Moriarty speaking.”

There’s a beat, and then,

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Jim’s eyes light up as he listens to whoever it is on the other end of the phone. Sebastian prays that it isn’t something about Sherlock, that he hasn’t fucked up for a- what is it now, third- fourth time?

“Mn, oh I do love a good threat, go on.” Sebastian relaxes some as he listens to Jim, trying to convince himself that Sherlock wouldn’t be making any threats in a time when Jim has little to no work. It’s no doubt somebody from one of the crime families demanding something be fixed, or compensation for something that Jim has already ‘fixed.’

Jim glances over to Sebastian before heading to his office. It’s odd that Jim would want to keep a conversation private, but knowing himself Sebastian’s sure it’s just that somebodies making a threat that Sebastian himself would want to act on. He doesn’t often let people get away with talking shit to Jim, especially if the attacks get personal. He knows Jim can handle them of course, everything rolls off him like water of a ducks back, but Sebastian likes to deal with those sorts of problems anyway. If anybody stupid enough to insult Moriarty ends up dead, it encourages other people to keep their mouths shut.

Jim laughs at him for it, but Sebastian can’t help but be protective. Jim’s moulded him into a person who can only think about one thing, if he didn’t want Sebastian on the defensive, he shouldn’t have spent years making sure that Jim was the only thing in Sebastian’s life that really mattered.

Idly, Sebastian considers getting up and getting something to eat, by the clock on the wall it’s mid afternoon and given that he emptied his stomach all over the ground last night he’s certainly hungry, but as he tries to move his legs protest violently enough that he decides it’s best to just wait for Jim to come back and see if he can’t convince the man to order take away.

Jim comes out of his office ten minutes later looking absolutely smitten. It’s the look he gets when he’s got a new project, usually a new person whose life he plans on ruining. Probably won’t be any take away then.

“The quiet period is over Sebastian. As it turns out the new kids on the block are worth playing with.”

“Oh yeah, and who are they?” Sebastian’s just glad that it won’t be Sherlock, really.

“They’re working under somebody going by Morrigan, apparently she’s a fan of my work.”

“Morrigan? That her real name?” Sebastian’s never heard that name in his life. He has no idea what to expect from the woman, no idea what it might be leading into.

“We’ll have to see, though something tells me it is, I’ll have to look into her.” At least it’s not Sherlock Holmes. Thank the Gods it’s not Sherlock Holmes-

-But who the hell is Morrigan, and just what does she want with Jim?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian knows that if he's going to be able to focus and help Jim with Morrigan, he needs to get rid of the last threat to Jim's life, even if it feels like he's going around in a loop doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead to continue this fic after almost a year. Time became a construct and I swear I didn't mean to leave this behind for the better part of a year. @lyrae for bringing me back to it!

Jim has a predictable pattern that he falls into whenever he gains a new obsession, and the appearance of the woman named Morrigan is no exception to this rule. He stops sleeping, first completely though with gentle coaxing from Sebastian Jim sleeps as little as he’s able to get away with. He loses weight, though Sebastian is there again to remind him to at least snack while he’s locked away in his office. Though Sebastian’s never liked the behaviour, he’s grateful to fall into a routine that he knows well. Though Morrigan is something new, though whoever the woman is can only mean trouble for both men, Sebastian is glad at least that he can count on Jim to be the same man he has loved for years.

Still, as glad as he is to have the ever predictable chaos of Jim Moriarty to surround himself with again, Sebastian can’t deny that he’s worried about who Morrigan is and what it might be that she wants.

It feels self-centered and foolish to think that he’s caused such a dramatic shift in the timeline. That him travelling back again and again to try and save Jim might have caused some sort of dramatic change that could send everything crashing down around him. It’s the butterfly effect really, or at least it could be. He wakes in pain the night before, needs a doctor to be called. They rush over, bump into somebody on the street and cause a spiral of events that leads to some new adversary crossing paths with Jim when otherwise the two of them would have never met. One small little change and suddenly the game has shifted. Hopefully, it will still have the same rules. Hopefully, Sebastian can count on using what he knows about Jim to predict what will happen all the same.

At least it isn’t Sherlock Holmes. At least he hadn’t accidentally led the man straight into Holmes’ arms years before it was supposed to happen. Sebastian holds onto that small glimmer of hope, repeats it in his head again and again to remind himself. It isn’t Sherlock, and likely isn’t anybody associated with Sherlock. If Morrigan was, Jim would have dealt with her previously, he basically went through every single one of Sherlock’s contacts, spoke with them all at one point or another, Morrigan is as far removed from Sherlock as possible. That’s what Sebastian tells himself. Until he’s proven wrong he has no reason to worry about the man showing up and Jim dying. He can keep the man alive until then, hunt down Sherlock when he’s absolutely sure that Jim isn’t going to be in any danger, and then stand by his side while they deal with Morrigan.

Until then, it’s business as usual. Jim sends him on hits, Sebastian struggles with going back to older phones and uglier cuts on suits, and Jim locks himself away in his office to work for hours at a time. Sebastian brings him food when he can convince Jim to let him into the office and sits with him while he talks about whatever new idea or plan he’s come up with to lure Morrigan out of the shadows.

He listens now, lent back on the uncomfortable couch that Jim keeps in his office for when he can’t be bothered dragging himself to bed. It’s intentionally an awful thing, too hard to get a good rest on so that Jim won’t sleep a full night. Sitting on it now Sebastian wonders if he could sneak a couple of pillows in to make it more comfortable, but Jim will likely just throw them out of the room.

“She’s testing me, I know it. Wants to see what I’ll do to find her.” Jim is pacing, but it hasn’t reached such a speed yet that would indicate Jim’s actually worried or stuck on the problem. “I can’t tell if she wants me to put on a show or if she wants me to find her discretely. It’s a pain, really. I could go all out, flash and bang, make some noise, and it might just keep her away. But if I find her and swan on in with nothing but my charm and a bottle of wine she might be underwhelmed and tell me to leave.”

“Seems like a lot of effort for somebody who was threatening you with something.” Sebastian doesn’t know quite what was said on the phone, Jim just waves him off any time he tries to ask, but it’s a surprise that Jim would actually enjoy a threat. It must have been creative to say the least if it impressed the great Moriarty, King of threats.

“She’s going to be fun, she is fun, Sebastian. I know you’d just as quickly run off and kill her for me if I asked, but I want to toy with this one for a bit. See if she’s a worthy adversary.” Jim slows his pacing down, turns his back to Sebastian just in time for Sebastian to conceal a grimace at the phrase ‘worthy adversary.’ He knows what happens when somebody proves not to be up to Jim’s standards, he doesn’t need somebody else to fill Jim with that kind of depression.

“Just take it carefully, yeah? I don’t want to be pulling bullets from you or sewing you up because you got knifed running your mouth or running into trouble.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me you wouldn’t patch me up ever again after the last time.” Jim counters. Sebastian doesn’t remember saying that, but then again he hasn’t been here that long.

“I guess I was lying.” He says to amend his previous selfs mistake. “You know I wouldn’t ever let something happen to you, Jim.”

Jim turns around and gives Sebastian a scrutinizing look before his pacing resumes at its original speed.

“Don’t you get in the way of my fun, Moran. This is the first exciting thing I’ve had since- well-” Jim waves off his comment, letting it fall unfinished as he moves to stare at the large map of London’s inner city he has pinned permanently to the wall. Sebastian occasionally pins date locations to it, or at least he will sometime in the future when Jim and he are closer.

“I’ll behave, don’t worry.” Sebastian assures.

“You better. Good help is hard to find and I don’t need you staining my rug.” Jim pauses for a long moment, the only reason Sebastian doesn’t add in a quip is because he can see that there’s something else the man wants to add, something sitting on his tongue that he’s thinking over before he says it.

Whatever it was going to be never comes out, Jim’s phone rings and after inspecting the number the man turns to shoo Sebastian out of the office.

“Go clean one of your guns or whatever it is you do when you’re alone.” He says dismissively. Sebastian sighs and gives a curt ‘yes-sir’ before leaving. He has a feeling that Jim will be there all night now, scheming and plotting, but he stays close none the less, listening out not to eavesdrop on the conversation but just to make sure that Jim isn’t going to suddenly call him back once the phone call is over. He’s sure it must be Morrigan on the other line, Jim doesn’t usually care if Sebastian’s in the room while he takes calls given that Sebastian’s involved in most of Jim’s work.

He feels like he’s going around in circles waiting to find out who she is. He’s certainly going around in circles worried that Jim is going to end up dead because of her. Not on Sebastian’s watch though. Never on Sebastian’s watch.

He sits on the couch and waits like a good solider, or maybe like a good dog until hours have passed and Jim still hasn’t made any move to leave his office let alone leave the house. Maybe it’s the fresh paranoia from Morrigan’s call but that fear that Sherlock will still be the death of Jim is pressed forcibly back into the forefront of his mind and Sebastian figures that now is as good of a time as any to deal with the man. Get rid of one threat while another looms around the corner.

He’s become obsessed as Jim had been when he took his own life, only Sebastian tells himself that his obsession is fine, his obsession is warranted. He should be focusing on what’s happening in front of him but he knows that he won’t really be able to concentrate until Sherlock is gone.

_“He’s intoxicating.”_ Jim had told him once, _“Addicting. Like I’ve found something that could consume me at any minute and yet I still can’t pull away.”_

Sebastian feels that tug now, that dangerous pull inward. The flames will swallow him if he gets too close and yet he has to reach into the fire.

He grabs his jacket and a gun, knocks at Jim’s office door.

“Going for a drink.” He lies. There’s a hum that lets him know Jim has at least heard him but gets nothing more. There’s a relief in knowing that Jim really won’t be going anywhere.

This time when he finds Sherlock in his apartment he isn’t completely off his rocker. The man is sober and calls out to him before he’s barely put his hand on the front door.

“Takes a certain man to climb those stairs so quietly. Third step at the top gave you away though, didn’t it?” It’s such a smug fucking taunt that Sebastian could just about kick the door in in anger. He opens it normally though, steps in and closes it behind him. Nobody will come for Sherlock, he doesn’t need to worry about locking it. Jim always said he was a lonely bastard until the doctor came about.

“Here to kill me?” Sherlock asks. “Upset the wrong people have I?”

“Not yet.” The words fall out before Sebastian even realises they’re more or less repeating the same conversation from last time. “Preventative measures. Got to make sure everything pans out the way it ought to.”

“Can’t have plans go astray.” Sherlock nods. He’s confident that he can survive this, it’s written all over the man’s face, but Sebastian’s already killed him once and he’s confident that he can do it again, even more confident than Sherlock is in his survival. He’s got no idea who he’s up against.

“Any way I can convince you to reconsider?” Sherlock is scanning the room for ways to defend himself, Sebastian wonders if the man is smart enough to have a gun stashed somewhere, or if he’ll try and bludgeon Sebastian with the iron poker next to the empty fireplace.

“Afraid not.” Sebastian shakes his head. “It’ll be quick though.”

“Not here to make me suffer?”

“Not here to risk you surviving.”

“Can I at least know who’s ire I’ve gained?” Sherlock chases information just as Jim does, it’s what’ll make Jim think that the two are alike if Sebastian lets the man survive.

“You don’t know him.” Sebastian replies. It’ll drive Sherlock mad not to know. “You won’t ever get to know him.” His voice is tight, it betrays the emotion behind the words. Sherlock’s eyebrow quirks upwards, his head inclines and he nods once to himself.

“You’re protecting a lover.” He says, and when Sebastian swallows the man gives a soft laugh, dropping his head to a shake. “Are you protecting his plans or your own? I can assure you I have no interest in anybody if you’re some sort of kilted lover who happens to know how to kill a person. Professional hitman are you? Do they know what you do?” There’s barely a beat before Sherlock continues to pick at him, “Oh he does, doesn’t he? He’s your boss, and you’re worried about him, worried enough to sneak off and kill me for him. He wouldn’t want you here, would he? Afraid I’ll catch him?”

Sebastian decides that he very much prefers the high as a kite Sherlock, too full of cocaine to make any of his stupid deductions.

“It’s not that, is it? Something else, something similar but not quite that. You’re afraid he’ll die if he and I cross paths.”

Sebastian draws his gun, trains it on Sherlock, whole body locking up tight.

“He does die because of you!” He hisses. He shouldn’t be talking about it, should just kill the man now. “He dies because of your stupid game so I’m here to make sure there’s never any game.”

Sherlock’s expression isn’t one of fear, if anything he’s just intrigued. Sebastian’s said too much, but he knows that the man in front of him couldn’t work it out no matter how fucking smart he is because what’s happened doesn’t make any sense.

“What do you mean he dies because of me?” Sherlock Holmes is full of interest, that smugness washed away by intrigue and Sebastian can’t take it anymore.

He empties every bullet from the magazine of his gun into Sherlock, each rapid step followed by a shot until there’s just the clicking of an empty gun firing uselessly.

This time, Sebastian burns the whole place to the ground just for good measure. Just to appease that part of him so lost to the anger that he might explode. It does little to help, his hands shaking, blood on the cuff of his jacket, more spattered on his face, streaked across it as he wipes it with the back of his hand. He travels home, doesn’t even bother to take off his boots as he enters the flat, plans derailed the moment he sees Jim there in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea.

“Sebastian. I thought you were out for the night.” Jim says disinterested, back turned as he handles the kettle.

Sebastian stalks over wordlessly, grabs Jim with one hand around the waist, the other forcing the kettle back down so that he can swing the man back around to face him. He crowds the smaller man against the kitchen bench and kisses him with such force that he’s sure he winds Jim with the action.

Nothing will stand in his way, not Sherlock Holmes, and not Morrigan. He’ll kill them all if he has to, every last person that there is who isn’t him or his Jim Moriarty.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian struggles with the idea that no matter what he does, he may never be able to fully protect Jim or stop the man from dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little steamy at the start of this chapter, but there's no actual sex.

Sebastian’s lungs burn as he kisses Jim, glad to find him safe in their flat, so desperate to hold the man close and just breathe him in, take in each inch of skin, run hands down his back and through the soft hairs at the top of his neck. He doesn’t break the kiss until Jim himself attempts to move back, still crowding the man against the kitchen bench but at least letting them both suck in heaving breaths as they recover from Sebastian’s bruising and desperate celebration. 

They stare at each other for several long seconds. Jim’s eyes are blown wide, his lips swollen from the kiss. Sebastian watches each rise of his chest, deep heaving things that let Sebastian know Jim’s still alive in his arms. Nothing has gone wrong, he’s prevented Jim from dying on that roof and come back in time to make sure that he hasn’t been killed by some other force caused by his meddling with the timeline.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Jim asks. Sebastian can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of his throat. Things are back to normal, he’s fixed it, got his Jim back. “Moran I swear to God-” 

Sebastian doesn’t give Jim the chance to respond. He kisses him again, bites at Jim’s bottom lip, pulls a honeyed gasp from the man. He wants to move back, to put distance between them enough to pull Jim out of his clothes, to kiss each inch of perfect skin, to worship Jim, to re-familiarise himself with the jut of Jim’s hip, leave a mark against his thigh, undress himself and let Jim claw at his skin. Wants to hand a knife to Jim, let him carve out his heart and keep it locked away in a chest. But all those things would mean that Sebastian would have to let Jim go and he can’t bring himself to do that yet. 

Jim becomes pliant in his hands, curiosity overrode by pleasure as Sebastian dips his head down, nudging his way to Jim’s neck, seeking permission wordlessly before biting gently against sensitive skin. He knows the rules, he isn’t allowed to leave marks anywhere above the collar, Jim doesn’t like to look unprofessional. Instead, Sebastian bites at skin just enough to leave it red, just enough that for at least a little while Jim will be marked as Sebastian’s. They’ll fade soon enough but it’s good enough for Sebastian. 

They both know that Jim could never really be owned by anyone. If anything, Jim owns Sebastian, and Sebastian would happily wear any mark that might suggest as much. 

Jim pulls at his hair, impatient and demanding and Sebastian chuckles against his skin, hot breath sending a pleased shudder though the other man. 

“If you’re going to distract my from my work, Bash, you’d better make it worth my while.” 

It doesn’t contain the threat that Jim might want it to, his voice pitches halfway through as Sebastian’s hand move from his back to his hip to press in against bone. He’s testing the waters, trying to work out just what Jim wants this time. There are times when he wants it slow, wants to be pulled so far out of his mind that he can’t even speak, driven mad to the point that he stops existing outside of the moment. And there are times like now, where needy fistfuls of hair dare Sebastian to be rougher, when pants become frustrated grunts and Jim tells him to do better. 

And who is Sebastian to deny Jim that? 

They don’t separate as Sebastian drags Jim away from the counter, spinning them around so that it’s Jim who walks backwards towards the wall. He moves quickly, deliberately taking longer steps than he knows Jim can take like this, forces the man to stumble back and lose his footing. He puts a hand in Jim’s hair and twists, forcing his neck to be bared and not relenting when Jim tries to pull it back. A smile forms on the Irishman’s face and Sebastian can tell that he’s made the right decision. 

They hit the wall with such a force that the artwork hung further down the wall falls, its frame shatters and is instantly forgotten, the two of them fighting for control, Jim snapping at any part of Sebastian’s face he can reach from his upturned angle and Sebastian feasting himself upon Jim’s neck. He uses his body to keep Jim against the wall, presses his full length against the man so that he can use his free hand to pull at the tie around Jim’s neck. He loosens it just enough to unbutton Jim’s shirt, sucks a mark where the collar will rest. It’ll rub for days, remind Jim each time he moves that Sebastian loves him so fiercely. 

Jim kicks one of his legs in-between Sebastian’s, drags it upwards and rubs against the man, presses into his erection enough to make it hurt event amongst all the endorphins. It sends Sebastian higher. He growls into the second mark he’s chosen to leave, retaliates by kicking Jim’s leg out and putting his own between Jim’s instead. The sound Jim makes is sinful, like a siren leading a sailor to his death. 

It’s enough to make Sebastian drop to his knees. 

“Good boy.” Jim purrs. “My good Sebastian.” 

It feels so right to be back with Jim that for a moment Sebastian completely forgets what he’s been through. Jim’s asleep now, naked and wrapped around Sebastian in their bed, the sheet pulled over him to keep him warm leaving Sebastian mostly to the chill of the room, exposed and sat quietly and still as Jim gets to enjoy a post sex nap. They’ve done this hundreds of times. Jim always argues that he doesn’t need a nap and that Sebastian doesn’t need to rearrange after they’re done, and then every time he drifts off with an arm around Sebastian’s waist. He’s snoring gently, it’s barely audible and hardly a snore at all. With each short sound, Sebastian finds comfort in knowing that the man is still alive. Even before everything that happened Sebastian always held this irrational fear that Jim would just die in his sleep unexplained, that that bright light inside of him would go out like a snuffed flame and leave Sebastian all alone. 

Jim wouldn’t ever die in such a boring way of course, but the fear is still there, creeping up from time to time to remind Sebastian of how crazy he is, how unstable he becomes when protecting Jim. 

For now, he just reads. He sits in the bed with Jim by his side and turns each page quietly as so not to disturb the sleeping Prince. 

It feels like a victory. It is a victory. Sebastian’s nerves have calmed down considerably and for the first time in months, he can breathe again. 

And then like so many times before, Jim’s phone rings and ruins the peace. 

Jim gives an angry grunt, pushing away from Sebastian’s leg and sitting up to grab his phone. He looks at the number and smiles. 

“She calling you again?” It’s fair to assume that it’s Morrigan. Jim nods and hushes Sebastian, but doesn’t throw him out of the room this time. 

“You’ve considered my offer then?” Jim says in way of answering the phone. Sebastian can’t quite hear what’s said on the other end but Jim’s smile grows so he assumes that it’s good news. 

“I look forward to it.” 

Sebastian considers going back to his book, if it were before he might have. Just let Jim work and deal with whatever came up afterwards. Wait like a good solider for his orders and then execute them to the letter. Now though, each new threat feels like watching Jim stand up on that roof. There’s nothing to say that Jim won’t overcome this new adversary, that he’ll turn her to dust like he did so many others, but the mere fact that it could end with Jim on a roof with a gun in his mouth means Sebastian can’t enjoy those quiet moments between orders anymore. He no longer has the privilege of assuming everything will be alright. He can’t trust himself not to notice the warning signs and can’t trust Jim not to act in a way that he can’t predict. 

He sets the book down instead and watches Jim carefully, checking for signs that this might all get out of hand. 

Though Sebastian loathes to admit it, he can already see that it will. 

Jim puts his phone down and gives Sebastian a dangerously excited look. 

“She’s agreed to meet with me.” He says. 

“With us.” Sebastian amends. “You know the rule. New client means I’m there for the meeting.” Jim rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny Sebastian one of the only rules he’s ever put in place. 

“You have to dress nicely then, I want to show you off if you’re going to come with me.” 

It’s no the worst request, dressing nicely for Jim so that he can be the dangerous piece of eye candy for the criminal mastermind of London is hardly the hardest thing Sebastian’s ever done in his life, though it does mean he has to amend what sort of protection he takes. Jim likes the nice neat lines of a suit and doesn’t like to see them ruined by the outline of a gun holster. Not unless that’s the message that he wants to send, and if that were the case Jim would have already said it. This is supposed to be a friendly meeting then, Jim and Morrigan will meet and talk, and Sebastian will stand behind them and watch for any signs of trouble. He’ll have to put down any threats with a knife which means inevitably ruining a suit, which Jim will chastise him about. 

It should make Sebastian relax. It should be a reassurance that Jim doesn’t expect anything to go wrong. Instead, Sebastian feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“Sebastian.” Jim clicks his fingers in front of his face unhelpfully. The action makes Sebastian flinch, shaking his head to try and clear it but the more he thinks about the meeting the more that panic builds up inside of him threatening to spill over. 

“Shit.” He manages. He can’t properly breathe. 

“Sebastian.” Jim says again, sterner this time. “Cut it out. Are you having a heart attack or is this some other nonsense?” 

Sebastian can’t fault Jim, he doesn’t really know how to deal with regular emotions let alone a panic attack. 

“Not a heart attack.” He manages. He pushes himself out of the bed to try and find more air, but the further he moves from Jim the harder it feels to breathe. He tries counting things he can see in the room, but his eyes fixate on Jim. He counts the man five times over, counts body parts to try and break it up. Jim’s legs, Jim’s hand- fuck- that hand that pressed a gun into his mouth. Jim’s head, covered in blood, glassy eyes, Jim dead in his arms, Jim’s bits everywhere that Sebastian couldn’t put back in. 

“Sebastian.” The corpse in his arms speaks to him. There’s no life in Jim’s eyes, the mouth moves like a puppet, no real expression to his face as he addresses the man. 

_‘You didn’t save me. You were supposed to protect me.’_

“Jim, Jim I’m sorry-” 

“Sebastian!” 

_‘I died because of you. Where were you when I needed you?’_

“I couldn’t- I’m doing everything I can.” 

“Moran!” 

_‘How many times are you going to kill me, Sebastian?’_

There’s a sharp pain in his right cheek and Sebastian realises he’s been slapped. He comes too in the bedroom, Jim standing in front of him, not dead and not covered in blood. There’s a roaring static in his ears as he looks down at the man, tries to piece together what’s going on before he realises. 

Jim is alive. He’s made sure that he’ll stay alive. He can’t be haunted by the ghost of a man who isn’t dead. 

“Do I need to leave you home, Sebastian?” 

“No.” Sebastian answers quickly, shaking his head. The last time that happened Jim was killed, he won’t make the same mistake again, he doesn’t need to rest and he’s already dealt with Sherlock. There’s nothing that could stop him from going to that meeting with Jim. 

“I need somebody I can trust to stay focused there, Sebastian. I can’t take you with me if you’re going to have a meltdown, or if you’re sick with something.” 

“I’m fine.” Sebastian insists, “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Then what the hell was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“If that was nothing, I’d hate to see what _something_ is.” Jim chides. 

“It’s fine. Trust me. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think I could protect you.” Sebastian assures. Jim gives him a dubious look and shakes his head. 

“Go have a shower and clean up. If you still look a mess when you come out I’m calling somebody else to come with me, understand?” 

“Yes-sir.” 

Sebastian will scrub every bit of uncertainty off his skin, he’ll bottle his fear and bury it far enough down that not even Jim will be able to see it. He has to, it’s the only way that he can keep Jim safe. 

He has to. 

He has to. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet Morrigan. Things go exactly as expected.

Sebastian does manage to scrub anything off him that looks like fear or uncertainty, cleans himself of anything that might make Jim want to leave him at home. It’s still there, that fear, but Sebastian has managed to reign it in for now at least. He’s still uncomfortable with the meeting, Jim agreed to meet Morrigan in a warehouse of all places. It’ll be too open, too much space for somebody to take a shot at them, or worse it’ll be packed full of machinery and stock the perfect place for all sorts to hide and wait for some signal to attack. 

Sebastian has never had this problem, never struggled to focus objectively on the situation and work through each threat until he had a solid plan. Normally he can take a moment, assess an area and have a plan for any possible danger that could come their way. Driving the car to their meeting spot though, Sebastian can barely manage to focus on the road let alone on the job. There’s every chance he’ll crash the damn car before they arrive, that he’ll hit somebody and their meeting will be postponed. 

Part of Sebastian wants to do just that. He won’t risk hurting Jim though, he’d never risk that. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Jim says beside him, face buried in his phone. “Normally I can’t get you to shut up before a meeting. Not going to brief me on safety this time?” 

“I figure you know the rules already.” Sebastian replies. It’s a weak excuse, he knows it is, but if Jim notices he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Good. I can just about recite your lecture word for word. Some things never change.” 

“You pay me to keep you alive, Jim, of course that’s not going to change. I only remind you because I’m almost certain you deliberately search out trouble even when you say you’re going to play it safe.” 

“Well I’m going to play it safe this time. Just a chat.” Jim looks up from his phone and grins. Sebastian’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as he tries not to get caught up in that grin. There’ll be plenty of time to admire it after the meeting once his nerves are settled. 

“Good.” He says, not believing Jim for a minute. “It’d be a pity to ruin that suit.” 

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Jim agrees. They fall back into silence, Sebastian no less worried than before and Jim looking as calm as ever. There’s so much Sebastian wants to say to the man, but he knows that bringing anything up would just cause problems. Obviously he can’t tell Jim the reason he’s so worried about what might happen is because he’s seen the man die, but if he tries to explain his concern without what Jim considers a ‘valid reason’ it’ll just end up with him being left in the car while Jim goes in alone. Neither option is something that Sebastian is willing to risk. He needs to be there, needs to keep a level head too. 

“What’s so special about this one?” He says instead. If he can work out why Jim is so interested, maybe he can work out a way to keep him safe, find a way to find some peace in all this, in the meeting, in some new foe that Sebastian has never heard of. 

“She reminds me of myself.” Jim replies. “Singular.” 

He’d said something similar about Sherlock Holmes, though Sebastian tries not to focus on as much. 

“If she’s like you wouldn’t that make neither of you very ‘singular’?” He offers. Jim shoots him an offended look, huffing. 

“She’s not that much like me, obviously I’m the better model.” Jim corrects, “But we share a few similarities.” 

“Like what?” 

“It’s hard to explain. You wouldn’t understand.” Jim’s not really paying attention to the conversation, not that that’s unusual. “She matches me, I suppose. We seek a similar thing.” 

“Nice and vague there boss.” Sebastian just needs something to reassure him, anything would have been better than ‘seek a similar thing.’ “Can you explain it to me like I’m five?” 

“Isn’t that what I just did?” Jim turns to him again and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, Sebastian, everything is going to be fine.”

  
Sebastian’s not sure why, but it sounds like a lie. 

  
Morrigan and Jim look at each other like old friends as they approach. The warehouse does look as if it’s otherwise completely empty, there’s nobody hidden around a corner, no ambush waiting to happen. The pair have chosen an intentionally very open part of the warehouse to speak. No tricks, no sneaking about, just the two of them. Well, Sebastian makes three. 

She’s beautiful, with dark hair that frames her face like smoke and a coat red as blood that flicks up slights any time wind passes through the warehouse windows. It doesn’t take an idiot to tell she’s a threat, and as Sebastian looks her over he’s sure that she’s got a gun in her pocket. Not that that’s unusual, especially given that she hasn’t brought with her her own bodyguard. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a friend.” Morrigan looks Sebastian up and down with less interest, raising an eyebrow before her attention is brought back to Jim.

“He comes everywhere with me.” Jim shrugs. “But he’s well behaved, don’t worry about that.” Sebastian’s used to being treated more like a guard dog than a person in meetings, that’s completely fine. Jim does it to hide any emotional connection between the two of them. When they’re at work, they’re Moriarty and Moran, he’s just another piece of Jim’s web, nothing more. Morrigan watches him for a moment longer, there’s a scrutinizing look that makes Sebastian feel like he’s being looked directly into. 

“Awfully handsome, don’t you think?” She comments. 

“He is, isn’t he? Nice to look at while I work.” Jim responds completely unbothered by the comment. Sebastian’s used to this too, it’s amazing how many people try to flirt with him to throw him off, or to see what Moriarty might do. Sometimes he does nothing, and other times Jim makes it very clear just who Sebastian belongs to. This time however, it really does seem like he’s just there to stand still and go through the motions. Jim doesn’t feel as if he’s in danger, not that the bastard ever takes his safety seriously. 

“I had hoped you’d come alone.” Morrigan continues, back to work just as quick as she’d derailed things. “I’ll have to change things up a little.” 

“I’m sure you can adapt. Shouldn’t you already know the outcome?” Jim relies with a smack of his lips. 

“Perhaps I should leave it all up to fate.” Morrigan replies. They’re sharing some private joke that Sebastian doesn’t understand. He wonders just how much they’ve spoken over the phone since first contact. It puts him on edge. 

Their business seems to be trading quips, nothing actually being discussed, and Sebastian grows more and more concerned that they have been set up. He keeps scanning the area, watching for any movement, for anything that might suggest they’re about to be attacked. 

“What are you offering, Morrigan?” Jim says finally, gesturing her to present whatever it is that she really wants to discuss. 

“Sleep.” She says. From behind him, Sebastian can see the way Jim shifts, curious and intrigued. 

“Sleep?” He asks. 

“A final destination, the spoils to the victor.” 

“A competition then.” Jim hums. He nods slowly as he considers whatever Morrigan’s nonsense means. 

“A battle.” She amends. Jim laughs light and joyful as he nods. 

“A battle.” He repeats. “It’s a good thing I have my soldier with me then.” Sebastian assumes it’s a call to action, but before he has the chance to draw his knife he notices something far worse. Morrigan’s hand has moved into her pocket, the shape of a gun ill concealed pressing against the fabric. 

  
_Shit._

  
Sebastian is quick to move Jim out of harms way. He sees the way Morrigan moves just slightly, it’s supposed to be a casual gesture, open and inviting, but Sebastian can see the threat through it. She reaches in quick as a viper and shoots through her coat, but by the Sebastian is already moving. He puts himself in front of Jim and shoves them both roughly backwards. Jim for his credit moves with him, though Sebastian can feel the excited gaze of the madman over his shoulder, curious eyes watching their attacker as Sebastian puts ground between her and them. 

“Don’t run too far, Sebastian,” He says, “You’ll spoil all the fun.” 

“She’s got a fucking _gun_ Jim, that’s not supposed to be fun.” Sebastian will be sure to get into trouble later, but he’ll take the lecture and punishment if it means getting Jim out safely. He’s going to have to kill Morrigan too, something that he’s sure will win him no favours with Jim, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to leave a threat like that just running around London waiting to kill Jim the first chance that she gets. 

“Come-on now, boys. If you leave how are we supposed to have our little game?” Morrigan coos, following behind them. Sebastian can hear her even steps across the warehouse floor as he rounds a corner, pushing Jim behind machinery to keep him out of view and hopefully out of the firing line. 

“Five more minutes?” Jim asks like some petulant child who wants another push on the swing. 

“Like fuck.” Sebastian growls. “Did you miss the part where she tried to kill you?” 

“I’m not taking it personally. It’s just business.” Jim shrugs. Sebastian puts a hand over the man’s mouth to shut him up as the footsteps get closer. There’s a high chance they’ll get out just fine, but with only a knife to keep Jim safe there’s a high margin for error. A misstep could mean a bullet in either of them. 

Slowly, Sebastian inches forward so that he can look through the parts of the machine they’re crouched behind, watching as Morrigan walks loose and confident around the warehouse, lazy as she checks behind each piece of equipment. She’s not at all worried, there’s no concern that she’s just shot at and missed Moriarty. There’s no fear of what’s to come. Usually when somebody fails to kill Jim they become desperate, but Morrigan is unaffected, strolling about with a smile on her lips. 

From around his hand, Jim gives a muffled protest. He has that same excited expression that Morrigan has, and when Sebastian turns to look at him he feels ice run through his veins. He knows that look too well, knows what it means, knows the obsession that it can lead to. He’s so struck by it that his whole body locks up. He can’t move, breaths becoming rapid again and mind going blank as it hyper-focuses on just what Jim will look like when he’s killed by Morrigan. 

What if he kills himself to win his game with her? 

What if that’s just the way Jim is doomed to go? 

“Don’t hide,” Morrigan croons from closer now, “There’s no point in prolonging it, let’s just get on with it, hm?” 

Jim gives Sebastian a pitying look, he reaches out and runs a thumb over Sebastian’s cheek, wipes away a tear Sebastian hadn’t even been aware of. 

“It’s okay, Sebastian. You’ve done a good job.” 

He stands up in slow motion, that look of pity falls from his face and is replaced with a broad smile as he extends his arms open wide to welcome Morrigan. Sebastian can’t breathe, his breaths go from rapid and uncontrollable to completely gone as he stares up at Jim in terror knowing what’s about to come and still unable to prevent it. 

Jim says something in Irish, it sounds almost welcoming. 

The shot echos off the steel walls of the warehouse, Jim is sent back, stumbling and then dropping to the ground back beside Sebastian. The shot isn’t clean, he’s still alive though Sebastian knows it won’t be for long. Wet gasps escape Jim as he fills his lungs with blood, he presses against the wound but only manages to push blood out of him faster. Sebastian still can’t move, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to save the man he loves. 

Jim looks at him smiling. 

His eyes go dull. 

Sebastian can hear the sounds of traffic, of Londoners going about their day. He knows there’s none of that outside, knows the sounds are just in his head. There’s the sound of an ambulance. The sound of gunfire on a battlefield. 

Sebastian sees red. 

He comes out from around the machinery with his knife drawn, moves quick and clumsy on his feet as he strikes at Morrigan who moves with the thrust, not out of the way completely but instead just enough to avoid being stuck with the knife. 

“Look at _you_ ,” She purrs. “What a loyal little doggy you are.” 

Sebastian doesn’t reply, he’s lost the ability to. Instead he strike again, but it’s a sloppy attack and Morrigan obviously knows how to fight, using his anger to her advantage. She kicks him backwards, sends him downward onto his back. 

“I’m not here to fight you, dear, just for him.” She jerks her head to where Jim’s body is cooling. “You’re free to go.” She makes the mistake of turning her back on Sebastian. Sebastian throws his knife, it buries itself in her back. 

“Oh.” She hums, tripping as she tries to stay upright. “This puts a dent in things.” She doesn’t sound at all concerned, if anything, there’s still amusement in her voice, light and unaffected even with a knife buried in her. “I should keep an eye out then.” 

Sebastian gets to his feet and stalks over, takes the knife and finishes the job. It’s a hollow victory. It’s not a victory at all. He goes back over to Jim, legs giving out when he sees the frame of his dead lover laid there in the grime of the warehouse. 

“Jim.” He croaks. Sebastian reaches out for him but he can’t bring himself to touch the man, he doesn’t deserve that small comfort of saying goodbye. 

He needs a cup of tea. 

He’ll get it right next time. He has to. 


	9. Once again

It takes so much to leave Jim there. To just leave his body in the warehouse and head back into the inner city. If it weren’t for the fact that Sebastian knows he’ll see him again in an hour, alive and well, he doesn’t think he’d be able to leave him this time. A knife is messy, but it would have still done the job. Sebastian hasn’t gone through all this just to give up though. He has no idea what inspired Jim to stand up, to put himself in the line of fire like that, but Sebastian knows he can prevent it. He just needs to make sure he doesn’t freeze up. He’s been in all sorts of combat situations, both in the army and with Jim, these instances shouldn’t be any different. If Sebastian acts the way he’s supposed to then he knows he can keep Jim alive. 

Just one more time, that’s all he needs. He can do it this time. 

In the back of his mind, there’s a different fear that builds. What if he can’t stop it? What if this is his fate now? To go back again and again and never be able to save Jim? 

Sebastian can’t think about that, he can’t let it even be a possibility in his mind. Otherwise, he will watch Jim die again and again. His fear of just that is what stopped him from saving Jim today. 

He feels so tired. Christ he feels so tired. Like he’s jet-lagged or just finished with a long haul shoot. 

Things move wrong as he gets into the car and heads towards the tea shop. It feels for a moment like things are overlapping one another, cars don’t move quite right on the road, colours blend together and people move like ghosts almost, phantom impressions around him rather than people just trying to make their way through their own shitty days. He almost crashes his car through an intersection when a light he swears was green suddenly switches to red halfway through, only he’s the only one who actually seems to have tried to pull through the intersection. He’s almost in an accident just like last time, and it’s really only the work of the others on the road there’s not an accident. 

Somebody shouts at him out their window but he can’t make sense of what they’re saying. It sounds like a radio station caught between two stations. Sebastian puts his foot to the floor and drives even faster. It’s reckless but every moment he stays behind with Jim gone feels worse. 

He pulls up without rolling his car this time though when he bursts through the door the woman looks equally as put out by his appearance. 

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be.” She hums over her book. This one has squat, rectangular rims that balance over her nose almost by magic. 

“I’m here for the tea.” Sebastian responds. She clicks her tongue the same way his mother used to when she was upset with his manners. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, young man.” She says. Sebastian almost sees red. He clenches his hands together and breathes out his nose to try and calm himself down not to murder her. 

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion on it. Give it to me.” He grits out. She clicks her tongue again and closes her book with a sharp snap. 

“Young man are you aware of the risks you’re taking in travelling multiple times?” 

“I don’t give a fuck, just give me the tea!” Sebastian shouts at her. “I need to-” 

“Your excuse doesn’t matter to me.” She waves him off, standing up and rounding the counter to examine him closer. “There’s a lot of strain that comes from going again and again.” He doesn’t care how she knows, it doesn’t matter to him, all that matters is that he gets the damn drink so he can go back. He’s not there for a lecture either. 

“I’m willing to take the damn risks.” He tells her. Despite being twice her size, Sebastian doesn’t seem to worry the woman. 

“I don’t want to be stabbed for my troubles.” She shrugs un-enthused as she turns away to fetch the drink, “don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” Sebastian doesn’t give a shit, he just wants to get back to Jim. 

She comes back only a couple of moments later but it feels as if it’s been an eternity. Each moment away from Jim feels stretched out deliberately as if he’s being punished. Perhaps he should be. He’s let Jim die four times now. 

“Remember to picture where you want to go clear in your mind.” She tells him handing over the teacup. “And be prepared on the other end, it’s going to be your fifth time, yes? I can see you splintering already, you’re risking burning out after this, there’s only so many times you can go before it kills you.” 

Sebastian grunts at her, cupping the teacup more like it’s a mug so he can drink the tea down fast. 

He pictures Jim in his head. Pictures him curled up on the couch in his lap with the TV illuminating his face late at night. He downs the tea, it scalds his throat as it goes down. 

  
He doesn’t scream out this time to his credit. 

There’s a movie on the TV but Sebastian can’t tell what it is for the immediate pain that shoots through his entire body. He grips the couch with such a force that he almost presses through the leather, one hand stretched out over the back and the other almost curling tight in Jim’s hair. He pulls away at the last minute, burying his hand in his own leg instead, body stiff as he tries not to jerk about and wake the sleeping Jim in his lap. 

He fails of course, Jim wakes almost instantly, a grumbled complaint as he digs his own bonier fingers into the meat of Sebastian’s thigh. 

“What’r you doing?” Jim growls, mumbling against Sebastian’s leg. 

“Cramp.” Sebastian manages to grind out. The minute he speaks he feels like he’s going to be sick. It’s worse than before, he’d thought because he hadn’t been in an accident that it’d be easier, but it’s not. 

“Well stop it.” Jim’s reply comes. Sebastian wishes he could, but he’s not sure he’s going to be able to hold it together. He taps Jim’s shoulder rapidly and the man complies by sitting up though the glare he delivers is nothing short of vicious. Sebastian attempts to stand but his legs give way the second he starts to put weight on them. 

The woman had warned him about this but damned if Sebastian is going to let himself die before he’s managed to save Jim. 

He forces himself to stand. It feels like glass is embedded in his joints, like he’s stood where a land mine has gone off and now he’s full of the shrapnel. Still, Sebastian manages to stagger towards the bathroom. He considers telling Jim that he’s just after some pain killers but he’s sure that opening his mouth would just let out a shout. Instead, he closes- slams- the door behind him and rests the majority of his weight on the basin, staring down at it for a long moment before turning the tap on to splash his face and try and regain control. 

Nothing is wrong with him, Sebastian knows that. Jim’s doctor found nothing last time, it’s just part of the process. 

He vomits in the sink. Red streaks in whatever he had for dinner, washing away until the tap water. 

Nothing is wrong with him, Sebastian reminds himself. There can’t be anything wrong with him. How is he supposed to take care of Jim if there’s something wrong with him? 

He rests his head on the cool surface of the basin, laboured breaths pushing through each new wave of pain that runs through him. Sebastian knows that he should let Jim know, but he doesn’t want to be sent away or have a doctor called. He doesn’t want Jim to put him on any sort of leave just because of a little bit of blood and doesn’t want to run the risk of Jim knowing there might be anything wrong in the first place. He’ll go to bed, get some rest, and be fine in the morning. Sebastian’s worked through hangovers worse than this. 

He coughs up more bile and blood and does his best to ignore as much.

Sebastian isn’t sure how much time he spends there with his face rested on cool granite as his body works through the pain, but eventually he hears the shuffling of feet before Jim opens the bathroom door without a care for Sebastian’s privacy. Sebastian’s quick to stand up, his head spinning as he does and he has to grip onto the basin to stop himself from falling over. 

“I’m no doctor, but that’s got to be a bad cramp to make you look that shit.” Jim says from the door. His hair is up at odd angles and he looks like he would much rather be still on the couch as he runs his eyes over Sebastian. “What’s going on.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“If you’re fine then I’m a good upstanding Catholic.” Jim snorts. “What’s going on?” 

“Must have been something I ate.” Sebastian offers. It’s a good excuse, tried and tested, and it’ll hopefully get Jim off his back. 

“Whatever.” Jim shrugs with a shake of his head. “I can’t be bothered prying the truth out of you, I’m too tired to deal with this tonight. If you don’t want to tell me then I don’t care.” Sebastian feels as if he’s betraying Jim by not telling him and he almost opens his mouth to explain himself but stops short knowing how dangerous that would be. Jim will think he’s gone mad. He wants to tell the man so desperately but he knows Jim will just think that Sebastian has finally lost his mind. That he’s gone off the deep end, and Sebastian can’t protect him if he’s sent away because Jim assumes he’s lost his mind. They stare at each other for a drawn out moment before Jim shakes his head and shuffles off, grumbling under his breath. Sebastian sags against the basin and lets out a shaky breath. He can’t keep doing this. Maybe the woman at the tea shop was right, maybe he can’t just keep going back again and again to fix problems. He needs to get it right this time. 

He staggers to his own bedroom to try and sleep off the pain, but before he does he runs through what he needs to do now that he’s back again. He needs to kill Sherlock, and he needs to find Morrigan. He needs to do it before she contacts Jim, and if it’s already too late for that he needs to kill her in a way that looks like an accident. Then, he needs to make sure he always keeps Jim safe. 

He doesn’t make it out of his clothes, falling onto the bed and burying his face in his pillow, Sebastian reaches over to his nightstand and digs out medication he’d normally use for when he needs a good nights sleep and for when he’s been in a more serious fight on Jim’s behalf. It isn’t the best to mix them, but Sebastian doesn’t see much of a choice in the matter. He needs to sleep, and he needs for his whole body to stop protesting each small movement that he makes. He swallows them down, seven pills in total, and tries to ignore the building anxiety in the back of his mind. He doesn’t fall asleep right away, it’s as if his whole body is on hyper alert, listening out to anybody who might be coming to attack Jim. When the sleep medication finally starts to kick in he fights against it, suddenly aware that he’s leaving Jim completely open to attack, that he’ll be useless asleep. 

It’s of no use though, he’d taken enough to put him asleep on a bad night, there’s very little that could have kept him awake. 

With sleep, unfortunately comes a nightmare.

  
_Sebastian stands on that cliff-side that he’d fallen from as a boy, staring out over the ocean. He has a rock in his hand though he knows not to get close enough to the edge that he might be able to make it into the water. The sea is dark, a thunderstorm rolling in over it, the sound of the thunder and waves crashing together in a way that almost sounds like the gunfire of war. He looks out into it, that never-ending horizon that threatens to swallow him whole, and even though he knows not to get closer he takes a step forward._

_Behind him, Sebastian hears that delighted, self-serving laugh he’s so terribly in love with. He feels fingers run through the short hairs on the back of his neck, but as he turns to see Jim there’s nothing there but crumbling rocks as the cliffside gives way under his weight._

_When he falls, he hears that gunshot that stole Jim away from him. As he falls, he can see Saint Bart’s Hospital rapidly speeding past him, cliff-side giving way to London, waves and gunfire now the churning sounds of the city during midday._

_He doesn’t hit the ground so much as he stops falling._

_Sebastian sits at a small round table with a teacup in front of him. To his right is Jim, lent back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, teacup in hand as he stirs sugar into it. To his left a woman who melds into herself and doesn’t ever quite take one solid form._

_“Drink your tea, Sebastian, it’s getting cold.” Jim drawls. Sebastian picks up his tea, but when he looks into the cup he sees droplets of blood against the otherwise milky brown drink. He looks back to Jim and the man smiles, mouth bloody as blood drips onto the ground from behind him. In place of Jim’s teacup is now a gun._

_“Jim-” Sebastian knows it’s already too late. There’s already a hole in the back of Jim’s head. The woman without a form pushes Sebastian’s cup closer to him to drink. He does._

_He ends up in Sherlock’s apartment. He stands there and watches as he kicks down the door and shoots Sherlock dead in the chest. Watches as the scene resets himself and he comes in again, this time he stabs Sherlock. Time resets again. Each time a new body piles up, the room adjusting itself only in small ways before a Sebastian arrives to kill Sherlock all over again._

_The next time it resets it’s Morrigan in place of Sherlock. Sebastian doesn’t enter, he waits but there’s no kick of the door, no shouting, no careful and quiet kill._

_There’s a groan of a step and then the door is slowly pushed open. Jim steps inside._

_“That’s the final problem,” Jim says to Morrigan. He turns his gaze to Sebastian as he speaks. “Staying alive.”_

Sebastian wakes with a start. He’s covered in sweat and at some time in his sleep, he’s thrown up all over himself. He can hear Jim shouting down his phone in Italian somewhere in the house and by his watch on the nightstand, it’s well into the afternoon. He’s not in as much pain as he was the night before and if it weren’t for the fact that Sebastian’s back for the what- fifth time? It would feel like a completely normal day. There’s a crashing sound that sounds suspiciously like Jim throwing his phone into the hallway mirror followed by a slew of threats the man will undoubtedly enact on whoever has pissed Jim off. 

This time, Sebastian tells himself. 

This time he’ll get to stay. 


	10. Chapter 10

Sebastian had expected the pain to be gone when he woke up, but after the adrenaline from his nightmare has finally washed away he finds that awful ache back to haunt him. He feels better technically, there’s no longer the deep urge to throw up, but not wanting to cough up blood doesn’t really mean that he’s fine again. He still aches. Aches like his body needs to recover after a bad fight, aches like he’s been hit by a train or run over by a truck. Maybe ache is the wrong descriptor all together. Still, a few ‘aches’ can’t stop Sebastian. Maybe before when it was just the one life that he was living, back before he knew everything that was to come, but not anymore. 

He pushes himself up and out of bed. It takes more effort than he cares to admit. Most of that effort is placed in not shouting out in pain as he brings himself to full height. He’s been through worse, at least Sebastian assumes that he has, he doesn’t really have a good determiner for what counts as ‘better’ than time travel-related pains. He dresses in baggier clothes until he knows for sure if he needs to leave the house and pads out to see Jim furiously pacing about the lounge looking ready to murder anybody who so much as looks at him wrong. 

“Coffee?” Sebastian offers in lieu of getting too close and incurring that wrath. Jim’s eyes snap up to him, there’s a beat before the man nods, face tightly wound into a less than pleasant expression. Luckily Sebastian is largely ignored while he goes through cupboards trying to find where everything is stored. Once he has a mug he sets to making a coffee for Jim and a tea for himself, watching Jim still pace about the lounge while he waits for the kettle to boil. 

“Should I get my gun out then?” He asks casually, trying to work out just what has Jim in such a bad mood. Jim snorts at the question and throws his hands up in the air. 

“The gall of some people!” He hisses, animatedly flapping his hands about as he speaks. “The absolute gall of people, Sebastian! Do you know how often I have to deal with these absolute cretins trying to threaten my business like they’ve got any sort of leverage over me?” 

“If you had a pound for every time, yeah?” Sebastian jokes in an attempt to calm Jim down slowly. “Don’t worry about them, Boss. If it’s all just idle threats just get rid of them. You don’t need that kind of headache. It’s no fun for you and means I have to run out to replace the furniture.” With that comment, Jim turns to the broken mirror giving it a mournful look. 

“What a waste. I liked that one.” He says. 

“You like all mirrors you little magpie.” Sebastian chuckles. He turns back to the kettle to make their drinks, setting Jim’s on the opposite end of the counter to draw him over and away from where he’s been pacing. Better to remove Jim from the situation, get him to focus on something else. So long as he doesn’t focus on something Sebastian can’t protect him from. Jim takes a long sip after blowing on his coffee and sighs again. 

“At least I have actual work to focus on and I don’t have to deal with them all day.” He concedes with another mouthful of coffee.

“See? Bugger them off and have some fun. Send somebody out to deal with them and forget all about it Jim.” Sebastian nods, glad at least that the sour mood won’t last all day. 

“Yes well I’ve heard that Morrigan was spotted in London again, maybe this time I can catch up with her.” 

Sebastian chokes so heavily on his tea that it sprays out across the bench. He just about hacks up his lungs as his heart begins to pound in his chest, almost stopped by the mere mention of that woman. It’s impossible. It’s impossible. She can’t be here. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing ever and then twice in a row? He hasn’t even been about to fuck things up, how could she be there? 

“Gross, Bash.” Jim growls, moving his mug away from where Sebastian’s spat everywhere. “If you’re going to choke to death the least you could do is not get it in my coffee.” Sebastian can’t even manage an apology, he has no room in himself for anything but blind panic. He tries to say something dangerously close to ‘I can’t lose you again’ but it comes out only in coughs and heaves as he spirals more and more out of control. 

Jim, ever the same, rolls his eyes and looks like he’s about to leave Sebastian to choke in the kitchen. Instead, he sits his mug somewhere where there isn’t spit everywhere and comes around the bench to Sebastian’s side. 

“Should I be worried?” He asks discontentedly. Sebastian shakes his head as he holds tight onto the kitchen bench, when he looks up at Jim there’s obvious concern on his face. Obvious in the way that it’s obvious to Sebastian, no other man or woman would be able to tell, and though he might have found comfort in knowing Jim cares once, now it just makes the panic within him rise further. They’re all each other has. All each other has ever had. He needs to do his damn job and just protect Jim for once. 

“Right. Well once you’ve stopped coughing you can clean this mess up. Remember you’re in London, Bash. Breathe out and remember where you are.” The panic must be obvious on Sebastian’s face because the only time Jim ever says things like that is when he’s woken up from a nightmare about the war. It’s good enough for Sebastian, even if being back in London isn’t the comforting thought that it used to be. 

He closes his eyes tight and thinks back to a better moment in life. Thinks of the day he met Jim, of that cocky smile and those dark eyes that almost drowned him. 

_“Maybe you’ll be good enough.”_ Jim had said. From that moment onward Sebastian has certainly strived to be as much. Now isn’t any different. 

The moment Sebastian seems to be calming down Jim walks back off, collecting his coffee and heading into his office. Sebastian would prefer him to stay in sight but he can’t exactly go and explain that to Jim so he just lets the man walk off and stands there trying to assure himself that everything is going to be fine. He knows what to expect, he can get rid of Morrigan, get rid of Sherlock, and then shoot any fucker who even remotely gains Jim’s attention from now until the moment Sebastian dies. So long as Jim outlives him for once, that’s all that matters. 

He wipes down the bench and goes to his room. It takes a while, but eventually he manages to get into his phone. Sebastian’s list of contacts isn’t anywhere near as long as Jim’s is but he knows enough people to at least begin the search for Morrigan. Sebastian hesitates as he goes through the contacts, wonders just who he should put to the task. Ideally, he’d like somebody who isn’t close to Jim’s business, somebody who might fly under the radar. But That could mean taking up precious seconds that Sebastian just doesn’t have. Instead, he takes a risk that has every chance of blowing up in his face. 

He puts an open call hit out on Morrigan. Messages the relevant parties and offers everything in his bank account to the person who can bring proof of termination to him. It’s a bold move, and most certainly a dumb one. Jim will hear about it and be furious, but he shouldn’t be able to work out just who is after Morrigan. With that much money on her head, it shouldn’t take long for somebody to find her and kill her, with any luck one of her own people will turn on her and put a bullet in her head. Sherlock is almost an afterthought at this point. Sebastian knows how to deal with Sherlock Holmes, he’s no longer a real concern, if he can get Morrigan out of the picture just as fast it’ll be a godsend. 

With the hit done, Sebastian lays down on top of his sheets and closes his eyes. He still feels so damn awful, hopefully a kip will help him recover some more. Jim’s gone to his office and hopefully won’t leave without Sebastian by his side so he doesn’t have to worry about anything happening between now and whenever he wakes up. With any luck, Morrigan will already be dead by the time he wakes up. 

Sebastian dreams again. It’s similar to the last. He’s going to need to invest in some good sleeping pills, something that keeps him from dreaming, or at least that’ll make him forget. 

He’s a little disappointed when he wakes and finds out that Morrigan is still alive, but at least Sebastian isn’t in as much pain as he was in before. 

He wanders out to find Jim staring at the bread on the counter like it’s some difficult puzzle to solve. There’s a blank expression on the man’s face as he either focuses or zones out on the loaf. Sebastian can’t quite tell from where he’s stood just what kind of condition Jim is in. If he’s concentrating, it’s possible that Jim hasn’t even realised that he’s not actually moving; he’ll be off in some far off corner of his mind working through a business plan or cute torture date. If he’s zoned out it could be a lot worse. If Jim’s lost time and Sebastian hasn’t been there to try and pull him back down to earth there’s no telling quite what Jim will be like now that his tether has finally come to ground him in the present. 

“Jim?” Sebastian calls hesitantly. Jim inclines his head to the side, which means he’s at least somewhat present, but the man doesn’t indicate he’s listening in any other way. “You okay?” Sebastian continues. “Want something to eat?” 

“Oh.” Jim hums. A short laugh falls from his lips as he nods, grabbing the loaf from the bench to pull bread out. “Too busy thinking about work.” Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief. Thank God it’s only that. 

“Want me to make you something or are you going to eat plain white bread like a toddler?” 

“The second option,” Jim replies. “Might make a cup-a-soup.” At least it’s food, Sebastian supposes, or food adjacent. 

“I’ll pop the kettle on for you.” He doesn’t really need to, but completing a step for Jim while he’s more focused on work will mean there’s a higher chance he’ll actually get to eating. He nudges Jim lightly as he walks around the kitchen island to put it on, wrapping one arm around the man’s waist while using the other to pull down a mug from the cupboard to hand over. Jim’s still not paying that much attention, but when he looks up at Sebastian and gives him a lazy, thankful smile Sebastian’s heart melts all the same. 

It’s almost as if things are back to normal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! The next chapter might be a lot longer, so it may take a little longer to be posted. I hope everybody has had a good New Years!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan knows Sebastian wants her dead.

Sebastian checks his phone obsessively for a week. Though he knows it could never compare with the obsessive periods that Jim goes through, he wonders if it’s even a tenth of what the man battles against whenever he’s working on a new project. He can’t help but check his phone every hour, and as the week goes on he only checks it more and more. Every time he does there’s a moment of hope before a crashing wave of disappointment, and each time he does Sebastian loses more patience. Nobody has killed Morrigan for him yet, though from what he’s heard there are more than enough people out there looking for her, and more than a couple that have already died at her hand for trying. Jim excitedly tells him that she’s having trouble in the city. He finds it hilarious, sighting that it will be good for business as eventually, she’ll have to get desperate enough to ask for help. 

“She’ll come crawling to me and beg me to fix it for her.” He says assuredly. “Just you wait, Sebastian, she’ll come crawling to me and beg.” Sebastian hopes that Morrigan does come to Jim for help. It will give him a good excuse to get nice and close. 

Close enough to get rid of her himself. 

And Jim will send him of course. He won’t spare any expense for his new obsession. Sebastian remembers when Sherlock was having similar troubles. The man hadn’t come to Jim for help, but Sebastian had been sent to play babysitter. All Sebastian has to do is feign ignorance when Morrigan is bleeding out. Jim will be mad and throw a tantrum like no other, but then he’ll get over it and move on. If Morrigan can’t even stay alive, what’s the fun in keeping her about to play with? 

“You better charge her double.” Sebastian hums, not even looking up from his book. If he did the look on his face would surely betray his true intent. “No point in helping an enemy out if you don’t bleed them dry.” 

“I know how to run my business.” Jim retorts. He’s not bothered by Sebastian’s comment, if he was he would have thrown something at the snipers head. 

“Of course, Boss.” Sebastian still replies all the same. “I’d just like a nice new rifle. No harm in profiting off the weak and downtrodden.” 

“Ask Santa for one.” Jim’s already moving back to his office when he replies. 

“All that fat fucker gives me is coal.” Sebastian calls back over the couch. 

Things have been so calm this time around. Sure there’s Morrigan to deal with but she’s far too busy fending off assassins to bother Jim right now. Even with her still alive, the two don’t have any real time to meet up. Sebastian knows that he has to deal with Sherlock still, but he’s got that down by now, it’ll be a quick trip and then bang, Sherlock’s dead before Jim’s even spoken or heard about him. He still checks his phone four times in the next twenty minutes, but at least he’s stopped going for his gun any time he hears a noise out on the street. 

He’s about halfway through his book when Jim comes out of his office with a look that means the man is about to make a lot of money off somebody. 

“Did she call?” Sebastian asks. It’s a struggle to keep the excitement out of his voice. 

“I wish.” Jim shakes his head. “You remember that idiot with the oil company?” Sebastian doesn’t. He nods his head all the same. “Mn, he’s having a few issues with the- legality of his structures.” 

“Good money in oil.” Sebastian hums, setting his book down. 

“Good money in corrupt billionaires.” Jim corrects with a sly grin. “He’s asked me to meet him for dinner.” 

“What time are we going?” 

“Oh no, no need for that.” Jim waves him off. “The biggest risk to me there is food poisoning. He always wants to eat at the Loft, like they sell good food there or something.” There’s a wave of panic that Sebastian does his best to squash. Jim wouldn’t needlessly endanger himself when who he really wants to play with is Morrigan. He wouldn’t go out of his way to leave Sebastian behind unless he was sure it was a non-issue. Turning up without a bodyguard sends a clear message, that Jim doesn’t find the man threatening in the slightest. Turning up without Sebastian already positioned in the restaurant means Jim really doesn’t feel threatened at all. Not even enough to bring Sebastian just in case. Jim’s a professional, he knows what he’s doing.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Jim rolls his eyes. Sebastian hasn’t hidden his concern at all apparently. 

“Just seems like an unnecessary risk is all. With Morrigan running about.” 

“She’s too busy dealing with whoever is trying to kill her.” Jim waves off his comment without even the slightest bit of concern. “And I doubt she’d go and shoot me in the Loft, the lighting isn’t very good in there, it’d be a very boring hunt.” 

“I’m so glad you take your safety seriously.” Jim’s flippancy about it actually helps him relax some. He still doesn’t want to let Jim out of his sight, but if he’s honest he can use the time to duck out and get rid of Sherlock while he has the time. He’ll swing by to the Loft afterwards, sit at a table and keep an eye out for Jim there. Just to be sure. 

“Bash if I was worried I’d take you with me. Enjoy the night off. Go get in a fight or whatever it is you do with your time off.”

“At least let me drop you off?” Sebastian asks. Jim rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine. I prefer your driving to anyone else’s anyway.” 

Sebastian goes and collects his holster and his jacket, sliding both on easily before rejoining Jim. The man gives him a once over before shrugging and heads for the door. 

“I’ll text you when I’m done. Don’t linger outside like a puppy, you hear me?” He demands, closing the door behind the both of them once Sebastian has stepped out. 

“Yes-boss.” 

Sebastian is fairly sure that the only reason he does manage to leave once he’s watched Jim go inside is because he’s already decided to get rid of Sherlock. If he didn’t have that to do he’d likely sit there an appropriate amount of time before getting a table inside. Instead, he’s going to pop round for a quick murder and then come back to get a table. He peels away from the curb and heads for 221B with every intention of putting Sherlock back in the ground for a what- third- fourth- time now. It doesn’t really matter how many times he’s done it, it’s more important that he just gets it done. 

Maybe he should have hired Sherlock to hunt down Morrigan for him. Too late for that now, of course. 

He heads up the stairs in a brisk jog. The last time he did this his hands still shook. Now there’s more dangerous foe though Sebastian finds himself surprisingly calm. He knocks on the door politely, waits for Sherlock to call from him to answer. The man doesn’t of course, because when would he do anything at a timely matter, so Sebastian knocks again. There’s a shuffling from inside and then a muffled ‘come-in’ which Sebastian obliges. 

“You’re not the usual delivery man.” Sherlock hums. When he turns around he looks genuinely surprised that Sebastian doesn’t have some sort of take-away in hand. 

“Little sloppy for you.” Sebastian can’t help but to snark, cracking a smile. 

“Suppose it is.” Sherlock says slower. He’s not high this time either, but he clearly wasn’t expecting any trouble. “Are you here for a consultation?” 

“No.” 

“And that’s a gun under your jacket, correct?” 

“Yep.” 

“I see.” 

Sherlock turns his back to Sebastian all the same, obviously not feeling as threatened when Sebastian’s not basically climbing the walls to get a good shot at him. 

“May I ask who sent you?” He asks politely as he sits down in his chair, long fingers perched against one another as he considers the situation at large, trying to piece together a puzzle he has no hope of completing. 

“Sent myself.” Sebastian replies. “Bit of a complicated situation, don’t think even you could understand it.” 

“Try me.” Sebastian smirks at that and shakes his head.

“Much as I’d love to see your mind boggle, Sherlock, I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.” 

“You’re protecting somebody.” Sherlock hums. Sebastian shrugs and nods, draws his gun and aims it at Sherlock. “Are you sure that killing me will protect them?” Sherlock continues. There’s a pause and Sherlock’s eyes light up. “Ah- you’re not sure, are you.” Sebastian swallows thickly, his throat clicks just a second before he cocks his gun. 

“I know he’ll die for sure with you around.” 

“But there’s another factor that you’re worried about. Something- someone who threatens their life more than I do currently. That’s why you’ve come to me first. It’s easy, I’d almost say routine if I didn’t know any better.” Sherlock sees right through Sebastian in a way that makes him feel sick. 

“Fuck off.” He growls. 

“Who is it?” Sherlock persists, even as Sebastian moves closer with the gun. “Who scares a man who holds a gun like it’s an extension of his own body?” 

“It doesn’t matter who. If she doesn’t kill him, you will. He puts a damn gun in his mouth for you, throws himself off a roof for you, you drive him insane, you kill him, you suck all the life out of him.” Sebastian presses the gun against Sherlock’s temple, his hands have begun to tremble again. “You kill any desire to live in the man I love and I won’t let you do it again. I’ll kill you, then I’ll find her and kill her too. I’ll do it a thousand times over until I know he’s safe, so just shut the fuck up.” He almost misses the slow movement Sherlock makes, as it is Sebastian is lucky to get the shot off at all. 

This time, it isn’t a quick and easy kill. Sherlock gurgles against the wound that’s struck him in the cheek. Sebastian breathes heavily as Sherlock struggles to stay alert enough to prevent anything else from happening. Like the man could fight off Sebastian with a bullet in his cheek. 

“This is how it’ll always end.” He says standing over the man. “I’ll come to your house and I’ll kill you. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, and you’ll never know I’m coming, but I guarantee that every single time I come back I’ll shoot you dead in this apartment Sherlock Holmes. You should feel grateful I’m not as sadistic as Jim, or maybe I’d kill you slowly every time. I’m more interested in results though, it doesn’t matter how you die, so long as you’re dead that’s all that matters to me.” 

He aims the gun back up. He hears the voice of Sherlock’s landlady just as he pulls the trigger. She shrieks midway through chastising Sherlock about firing the gun in the house. 

“Sorry Mrs. Hudson.” Sebastian makes her death quick. She’s never done a thing to earn such an end, but he can’t risk her knowing his face. Next time he’ll make sure she’s not in before he goes upstairs to deal with Holmes. One body is enough of a problem to deal with, shooting the nice old lady who owns the building means Sebastian will have to deal with both Mycroft and the general population of London.

He falters slightly when he realises that he’s even considering a next time. This has become so normal to him that Sebastian expects Jim to die. He won’t, Sebastian reminds himself, he’s done everything in his power to make sure Jim will survive. 

When his phones text alert goes off he assumes the worst, heart seizing in his chest. 

Instead though it’s just Jim sending him a message comprised entirely of the little text emoji that looks like it’s sleeping, quickly followed by another that’s just the emoji repeated over and over to the text limit. 

At least if Jim isn’t having fun it means he’s safe. Sebastian is still going back to the Loft to watch over him, but there’s a reassurance that comes in knowing Jim’s not enjoying his meeting. He makes a quick exit and heads back to the restaurant, stashes his gun in the glove-box of the car before deciding against it and putting it back into his holster. He won’t get caught without it again, not after last time. 

Sebastian’s greeted by a tired looking Maitre d who is in obvious need of a coffee. Part of the reason Jim doesn’t like eating at the Loft is because most of the staff look like that. It’ll close down eventually, after a spate of ex-employees come out to tell-all about just how shitty the work conditions are. Sebastian tips them well for their efforts to make up for it, and Jim usually does as well. Though he’s a criminal mastermind with a thousand or so employees working under him, Jim’s always paid his staff well. It encourages them to put in the effort, according to Jim. Sebastian’s pretty sure that’s more to do with the bullet you’ll get for disappointing Moriarty more than anything else, but he has to admit that Jim’s rates are amazing. 

“Just a scotch, thanks.” He tells the waiter when they come over. “Don’t worry about a meal. Come back over here if the Irishman in the corner looks like he’s about to start shouting, otherwise don’t worry too much” He sets down a hundred pound note and it’s more than enough incentive for the waiter to leave him alone. It’s an easy tip for them, and an easy way for Sebastian to know if things are heading south without having to get too close to Jim’s table. 

It’s easy surveillance work. All Sebastian has to do is sit there and behave; he’ll still get a lecture about coming in at all, but if he’s well behaved at least the lecture won’t be as bad. Jim will scold him and tell him that he’s going soft, and Sebastian will argue that it’s his job to keep Jim safe even when there’s no obvious threat, and then they’ll both move on while Jim pretends he doesn’t appreciate the gesture. 

He sits there and nurses his drink, sure to drink it slowly so that he’s still fine to drive afterwards. The meeting seems to be going well enough, Jim looks like he’d rather be in bed asleep, but the man across from him is talking animatedly enough that Sebastian doubts there’ll be any fight, verbal or otherwise. He watches as Jim pushes his meal around the plate, uninterested in eating it, and considers what he’ll have to feed the man after his meeting. 

Sebastian makes it halfway through his scotch when Morrigan takes a seat across from him. His hand shoots instantly to his holster, but he knows he can’t actually shoot her in the restaurant. 

“A little birdy told me that you’re trying to have me killed.” Morrigan looks proud as punch sitting across from Sebastian. She’s blocked Sebastian’s view of Jim, but he doesn’t want to look around her in case she hasn’t realised that he’s also there. If Sebastian plays his cards right he can get rid of her without Jim noticing, without her ever knowing that Jim’s there in the first place. They won’t even know that they crossed paths tonight. 

“Don’t know where you heard that.” Sebastian replies cooly. His poker face is good, but he doubts it’ll do much if she knows already. 

“Seems like an overreaction to kill me, don’t you think? Moriarty and I are just having a bit of fun, we haven’t even had a real fight yet.” She says. Sebastian shrugs. He doesn’t know what Morrigan and Jim have been up to, he hasn’t been around long enough to keep track of their game. If it’s early days it might work in Sebastian’s favour, but then again last time it was early days and Jim ended up dead. 

“If I did put a hit out on you it’s because my job is to protect the Boss.” 

“The Boss. Interesting way to put it.” Morrigan smiles, she looks like a predator about to pounce. “Most people don’t sleep with the boss. Most people wouldn’t die for the boss. I wonder how many times you’d die for him?” 

“Are you just here to monologue, Morrigan?” Sebastian doesn’t have time for this. If he can get her to leave with him, he can kill her. He’ll have gotten rid of them both, and Jim will be safe. 

“I think we both know that’s not all I’m here for.” She leans back in her chair, taking Sebastian in. “You’ve got a hit out on me. Either your cancel it or I get rid of you. It’s a bother, it’s getting in the way.” 

“Why don’t we go outside and discuss this?” Sebastian suggests. The threat is obvious in his tone. He won’t drop the hit, and he certainly won’t just lay down like a dog and wait for her to pull the trigger. 

“A pity, you’re so good looking. They’ll have to have a closed casket.” She stands, and Sebastian follows suit. As she’s walking past him he makes the mistake of looking over to Jim’s table. He can’t help it. 

Morrigan catches the movement. She glances back over her shoulder and her smile widens. 

“Oh.” She says. “That’s why you’re sitting there all alone. Guard duty.” Morrigan draws her gun, but Sebastian’s quicker. He tackles her to the ground as her gun fires. He hears Jim cry out in pain but doesn’t look back over. He needs to get rid of Morrigan first, he can’t keep Jim safe if she’s still alive. At least this way, Jim can’t blame him for killing her and ruining his fun. They wrestle on the ground as Sebastian tries to get his gun out of his holster, but it’s impossible at the angle they’re both fighting at. Morrigan twists viciously, kicking him off, the heel of her stiletto like a blunt knife shunting him backwards as he tries not to impale himself on it. 

“Bad dog.” She teases, using the distance between them to stand up. Sebastian rolls and draws his gun. He fires off a shot at the same time Morrigan kicks at his hand. He manages to hold onto the gun but the shot misses. She kicks at him again but Sebastian’s quick, rolling out of the way and onto his knees to take another shot. Morrigan sees him aim and veers off to the side, closer to Jim where she knows Sebastian won’t risk the shot. 

He stands and makes the mistake of looking over to Jim. He doesn’t look fatally shot, but he’s gripping his shoulder, blood trickling between fingers. 

“Not fast enough,” Morrigan teases, “Better luck next time.” 

Sebastian raises his gun up again. He can’t take the risk of hitting Jim, but he’s got no choice but to try and make the shot. 

“Don’t you dare, Moran.” Jim hisses at him from his spot on the ground. “If you shoot her I’ll skin you alive.” 

“Jim she-” 

“Listen to your master, guard dog.” Morrigan cuts Sebastian off, walking back over with a gleeful expression. “He and I aren’t done with one another yet.” 

She strokes his face with all the tenderness of a mother soothing her upset child. Sebastian doesn’t know what to do. She’s right there, Morrigan is right there for him to kill, but if he pulls the trigger now after Jim’s told him not to he’ll still lose the man. 

“I won’t let you play this game, I- you’re going to die sooner or later.” Sebastian threatens. “I won’t drop that hit. It’ll still cash out if I die. The game is over.” 

“Oh no no no, Mr. Moran.” Morrigan laughs. “This is a game I want to play with Moriarty, not with you. You’re just a little fly buzzing about, a bad guard dog with too much bark if you ask me. Next time we meet you won’t even remember. I’ll snap you up and have you kill him yourself. Or better yet I’ll have you beat him for days until he begs you to kill him, until he’s weeping and broken and just a sad little man with nothing left. He’s the genius, you’re a nobody who thinks he can play time-traveller and expect everything to go your way.” 

“Only there’s no coming back if you’re dead. Not for you.” 

Her knife enters just above his abdomen. The sound that escapes Sebastian’s lips is desperate. Not like this, he can’t go like this. He forces himself to stay on his feet, though when he tries to step forward he finds himself moving more sideways. Sebastian crashes into the table beside him, drags off the abandoned meals with the table cloth as he tries to catch himself. Morrigan gives a delighted laugh. 

“Clever of you to try and send somebody after me. I realised what was going on once I traced it back, you know. There was only one reason why Moriarty’s loyal little hound would go behind his masters back to try and get rid of me quietly. You know what happens, or rather what happened last time. You know I beat your little Jim, that he loses, and you can’t bear that.” She kicks Sebastian forcefully as he tries to pull himself back up. Pain tears through him like a hot poker as he protects the knife wound that’s quickly killing him. 

“How do you know that?” He asks. Morrigan only replies with another cruel laugh. “You were dead- you couldn’t- how could you know?” 

“There’s more than one way to go back,” Morrigan coos. “At least for me there is.” 

She steps over him, heels clicking against floorboard as she walks away. In the distance, Sebastian can see Jim, wounded but not yet dead. She says something to him in Irish, and Sebastian wishes he knew just what was being said. He croaks out Jim’s name, desperately dragging himself towards the man and catching the attention of both Morrigan and Jim. 

“Stay there, Bash, it’s alright.” Jim calls weakly. It’s far from alright. If Sebastian doesn’t act fast he’s going to lose Jim again, Morrigan’s threats muddling his mind. He has no idea what she’s talking about, but things suddenly seem so much worse. If she can keep coming back too it means that Sebastian has to work three times as hard to keep Jim alive. 

That’s if he can make it to the tea shop in time. Otherwise- 

He can’t let himself think about that. He needs to get himself to Jim, needs to make sure the man lives and that Morrigan dies. 

Jim’s smile is haunting even from where Sebastian is on the ground. A mouth full of blood as he laughs and reaches into his pocket. 

It’s hard to know who shouts louder, Morrigan or Sebastian. It’s over in an instant, a gun pressed under Jim’s chin and suddenly Sebastian can’t breathe. He doesn’t register Morrigan leaving, doesn’t care about her at all now that Jim’s dead and he’s sure to follow soon. He uses what strength he has to drag himself across the room to Jim. There’s a trail of blood behind him, front soaked through as he forces himself to be by Jim’s side, grasping the man so tight when he finally reaches him that for a moment the movement makes Sebastian think that Jim’s faked his death, that he’s still alive. 

There’s no life in those big brown eyes though. 

“Jim, Jim please.” Sebastian begs. He pulls himself closer, pulls Jim down so that they can lay together, arms wrapped tight around the man he loves. “Fuck- please wake up. This isn’t funny. You can’t just leave me again.” Jim doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t respond, but Sebastian still begs him to, still holds him tight enough that it’d leave bruises. 

Sebastian can’t give up on Jim, but he also doubts he can have another chance. He should have been smarter about it, should have been more careful. He had taken on Morrigan like she was any ordinary foe Jim might run across, when what he should have done was consider her as great of a threat as Sherlock himself. 

“I’m going to fix this, Jim. I’ll fix it, I will, I’ll fucking fix all of it.” 

It’s going to be hell, but Sebastian is determined to make it to the tea shop before it kills him.


	12. Fifth Time's a Charm

Sebastian feels like he’s being pulled apart when he comes to. It isn’t the same nausea and pain that has come from the other times he’s gone back, this time it feels like his body is literally being ripped into pieces. His body doesn’t feel right at all, it screams out in a white-hot pain, protesting any small movement he does. His heart beats so fast that Sebastian wonders if he’s having a heart attack. He can’t even remember drinking the tea, barely remembers dragging himself through London to get to the tea store to begin with. He collapses almost instantly, no control over his body, and belatedly Sebastian realises that he’s in an office somewhere.

Jim’s voice calls to him, but he can’t make sense of what’s being said. He’s glad at least that he’s there with him.

When Sebastian wakes up he’s on the ground. Jim’s pacing behind a doctor who has knelt down beside him.

“Can you hear me, Mr Moran?” The man asks. Sebastian groans in response, trying to push himself up. He can’t, he feels too weak to move at all. “Try and stay still.” The man instructs. Sebastian grunts at him in return and tries again. Jim clicks his tongue though and that’s enough to get him to stop from getting up.

“You’ve had a seizure.” He tells Sebastian, looking down at him with concern on his face. At least Sebastian assumes that it’s concern; it’s hard to tell with all the cotton wool that’s apparently been put in in place of his brain. “You could have timed it a little better, but I’m willing to forgive you considering it was a medical emergency.”

“Sorry Jim.” Sebastian lays there obediently, waiting for the doctor to check him over before he’s helped to sit up. Jim makes an unimpressed sound but doesn’t chastise him. He wants to get up off the floor but the second he tries it becomes very apparent that for now at least he’s stuck sitting on the office floor. He still feels like absolute shit, like his body is falling apart, but when he looks down at his hands they’re still in one piece.

“You’ll need to come in for a proper check up.” The doctor says, careful to watch for Sebastian’s reaction, well aware that Sebastian isn’t going to react well to the news.

“Like fuck.” Sebastian growls. He opens his mouth to say something worse but Jim cuts him off before he has the chance.

“I’ll make sure he goes in tomorrow. For now, I’d like to take him home, if you think you can get him on his feet.”

“I’m right here, Jim,” Sebastian replies tersely, “No need to talk about me like I’m not in the room.”

“Watch that tone of yours, Sebastian, or you’ll be going in because they’ll need to deal with you not having a tongue in your mouth anymore.” Jim’s tone is just as tight, obviously not in the mood for any of Sebastian’s bullshit. Sebastian mumbles a reply and lets himself be helped up onto his feet. He wants to sit down the second he’s back on his feet, but he doesn’t allow it. Buries that awful feeling deep in him and stands up like a good soldier should. He doesn’t manage to stay on his feet for long, but by then Jim’s already thrown the doctor out of the office and pulled a chair close enough for Sebastian to take a seat. The hard look on Jim’s face softens as Sebastian does.

“You’re getting sicker.” He sighs. Sebastian frowns.

“What?”

“Nevermind. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to catch your breath and then we’re going home.”

It isn’t like Jim to be so- gentle. They have their moments, or will have their moments, Sebastian has no frame of reference as to when in their timeline he is, but he doesn’t remember Jim ever looking quite so concerned. There’s a softness to his voice, a resigned fear that makes Sebastian wonder if he’s come back during a period when he had the flu and that’s why his body has reacted so poorly. At least he is with Jim, at least he’s not there with Morrigan as she’d threatened.

There’s a blinding moment of panic when that thought crosses Sebastian’s mind.

Morrigan’s come back just like he has. Which means just like Sebastian’s learnt to predict and deal with certain threats, she too could be out there right now clearing a path for when her and Jim come face to face. He doesn’t know what she wants with Jim, or what she’ll do with him when she gets him, but Sebastian knows he needs to be more careful when tracking her down. Otherwise, it’ll happen all over again. Jim will die, and Sebastian might not have another miracle to pull out of his arse.

“Sebastian.” Jim’s voice cuts through Sebastian’s line of thought, and blue eyes snap up to meet Jim’s dark own. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get the care you need. Whatever is happening to you, I’ll work it out.”

Sebastian wishes that he could explain it all to Jim. Jim might be able to fix it, might look at the problem at hand and scoff, laugh at Sebastian for not seeing the solution right there in front of his face. But how is Sebastian supposed to explain that he’s been going back in time every time Jim dies to try and prevent it. Worse than that, how is he supposed to tell Jim that he’s let him die five times now. That five times Sebastian has failed to protect Jim. It’s hard enough to admit that to himself let alone out loud, and least of all to Jim.

“I’m fine, Jim.” Sebastian weakly reassures him.

“And I’m the Queen of England.” Jim snorts. He pulls out his phone, tapping away at it as Sebastian takes the time to put himself back together enough to at least make it to the car so they can get back home. Nothing feels right; his body feels disconnected, like he’s looking at it from the outside, and though he’s aware that he’s in an office and can feel the chair beneath him, it’s as if nothing around him is real. It takes Sebastian close to an hour to finally find his grip on reality again, and by then Jim’s yelled at three separate people on the phone and sent somebody to kill a fourth. There’s a comfort in the short-tempered fury that rolls off Jim as he paces around the room apparently content to ignore Sebastian’s recovery. He doesn’t stop to talk to Sebastian, but Jim does glance at him every so often, only stopping his pacing when Sebastian finally manages to stand up. He hangs up the phone call mid-sentence to give Sebastian a scrutinizing once over and nods.

“Ready then?” He asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Sebastian replies with a far hazier nod. Jim waits for Sebastian to lead the way out. It’s a small thing that Sebastian’s glad for, something he doubts Jim even puts thought into. Letting Sebastian walk out first means that Jim still trusts Sebastian to keep him safe even in his poor condition.

The sun nearly blinds him as he steps outside, London having a rare clear day. There’s a car waiting for them at the curb, somebody getting out to open the door for Jim as they approach. Sebastian’s glad that he doesn’t have to drive home, though he doesn’t know if that’s because Jim had organized for them to be collected because of Sebastian’s condition, or if because they’d been driven to the meeting before Sebastian had come to. He doesn’t have the energy to ask.

When they get to the apartment Sebastian makes it to the bed just barely and falls asleep before he can even have the thought to kick off his boots or pull his gun from his holster, asleep on top of the blankets in seconds.

He wakes up under the covers with his shoes off. He’s still where he was when he fell onto the bed, but the blankets have been folded over him. The blinds have been drawn and judging by the lack of light outside it’s long into the night. Jim is beside him, laptop perched in his lap illuminating his face.

“You’re awake.” Jim doesn’t look to him, but his hand reaches out to Sebastian’s temple with such ease that Jim’s almost certainly reached out to him before now. “I was beginning to think you’d sleep all night.”

“What time is it?” Sebastian asks groggily.

“Four am.” Jim replies.

“Then why the fuck aren’t you asleep, Jim?” That brings a smile to Jim’s face and finally, the man looks over to him.

“Somebody has to watch your back.” He says. All the pain is worth it just for that. Coming back to fix things is worth it just to hear those words. Sebastian’s said them to Jim a thousand times, but this is the first time the man’s ever said them to him. It’s confirmation that Sebastian’s really doing the right thing. They’re a team, they look after each other, they’re all the other has.

It’s not an I love you, but Sebastian knows he’s never getting that. He never needs to hear it though, not after hearing Jim say that he’s got his back.

“Well I’m awake now so I can watch it myself.” He tells Jim. “Get a couple hours of sleep or I’ll tell you all about the rugby.” Jim makes a disgusted noise at that, rolling his eyes like a petulant child and sets his laptop down on the side table. “Come here,” Sebastian moves his arm to make room for Jim, before pushing himself up to rearrange the bed properly so that Jim will be under the covers. It hurts to sit up, and moving makes his whole stomach lurch, but Sebastian pushes through it, hiding the pain from his face and climbing under the covers properly so that Jim can lay under them with him.

“I’ve killed people for threats like that.” Jim reprimands. “You’re lucky I don’t just cut out your tongue.”

“I know.” Sebastian replies dutifully as Jim rests his head on his shoulder. “I’ll keep it in mind next time I need to threaten you.”

“Lair.” Jim mumbles. He’s already falling asleep in Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian is glad he’s come back to a time when he can do this. Hold Jim in his arms while London sleeps outside their window. Keep him safe and close, count the man’s breaths and push away nightmares.

How he in his wretched life has managed this one grace Sebastian will never know. How he’s able to have somebody so uniquely fucked up as him to love, how he could ever deserve Jim Moriarty there in his arms.

Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s why he keeps losing Jim.

Sebastian doesn’t let that thought linger. If he even considers that idea it’ll swallow him whole. Instead, he lays there quietly and lets Jim sleep. Stays dutifully still and watches the sunrise through the cracks in the blinds, listens to the city wake up in earnest while the most dangerous man in London sleeps curled up and tangled against him.

He takes the time to try and work out how to approach his plan better this time. Obviously, an offensive approach won’t work. Especially if Morrigan thinks that Sebastian is going to come after her again. He needs to track her down discreetly, through avenues that she won’t be able to infiltrate, through avenues she won’t be able to predict.

There’s a sick feeling that washes over him when Sebastian realises that there’s somebody who would fit the bill perfectly. Somebody he’d never ask for help from in a thousand years, somebody who he wouldn’t approach unless he was out of options and even then who he’d have to drag himself kicking and screaming too.

Nobody would ever expect Sebastian Moran to show up and ask Sherlock Holmes for help.

He scratches the idea from his mind almost instantly, but after another hour of trying to think of some possible way to eliminate Morrigan it’s the only name he can come up with who he can be sure wouldn’t be a suspect. If Morrigan really can go back like Sebastian has, she’ll know that there’s no way in hell Sebastian would go to Sherlock for Help. The man is the reason Jim ended up dead in the first place. He’s the reason Sebastian has been stuck in this hell-scape of going back again and again to try and save Jim from death.

He just hopes that Sherlock’s game hasn’t started with Jim yet. He can’t see any calendar in the room, and his phone which was previously in his pocket is just out of reach on the nightstand. The phone isn’t that old of a model which could put them dangerously close to Jim’s obsession with Sherlock, but if it’s before there’s still a chance that Sebastian could use Sherlock for help and then kill him before Jim has the chance to ever acknowledge the man’s existence. It’s a plan that’s dependent on a lot of moving parts to even get off the ground, but if the timings right it may be the only thing that can save Jim from Morrigan.

It’s not quite ‘the enemy of his enemy’ but desperation means that Sebastian unfortunately has nowhere else to turn.

He’s worried too. The time before this he was warned about trying again and again, that it was bound to kill him sooner rather than later. If his bodies reaction this time is anything to go by, Sebastian doubts he has much time left. This could be his last chance to save Jim. If Jim dies again, the trip back might kill Sebastian outright, and then he won’t be able to protect Jim from shit.

This time he has to pull out all the stops. This time even if he’s in a crowded restaurant he needs to pull that trigger.

By the time Jim wakes the sun is well and truly up and Sebastian has made up his mind about what he needs to do. He’s far from well enough to get out of bed and go find Sherlock, a fact punctuated by the fact that he has another seizure trying to make Jim some toast, but at least with Jim out of his arms, he’s able to find out the date. He still has a year or so before Sherlock falls onto Jim’s radar. It’s a slim window, but enough for him to work with.

He’s relegated to the bed while Jim makes himself some toast, ordered to stay and get some rest while Jim gets a doctor in to see him. The doctor takes a few tests and draws blood from Sebastian while Jim watches from the doorway, and then tells Sebastian that he’s going to need to take it easy while he waits for the results to come back.

“I’ll have somebody pick up the work you’re going to miss.” Jim says after the doctor has left.

“Work from home until we get the results.” Sebastian replies. It isn’t a question and to his surprise, Jim doesn’t fight him on it. Whose sake it is for is hard to tell, but Sebastian is just glad that Jim has agreed to it at all.

He’s left to himself for the most part. Jim doesn’t ban him to the bedroom or hover though he does leave the office door open for once. Again, Sebastian can’t tell whose sake the move is for but he doesn’t push it our complain. He can see Jim and Jim can see him; that’s all either of them need.

Sebastian sits on the couch and watches daytime TV until the afternoon. It’s hard to focus on the TV at times, pain shoots through him like a cattle prod is pressed against his ribs, but he knows it’s better to just sit there than to try and force himself up to work. Not that Jim would let him. Several times Jim comes out of his office just to walk by him, feigning some excuse that both of them see through.

“What was the name of that barber you like?” Jim asks at one point. They both know Jim wouldn’t let anybody else touch his hair outside of Gilbert, his own barber, he’d once described Sebastian’s own as a blind man with Parkinson's. Sebastian gives the name dutifully all the same and Jim wanders off back to his office again. He doesn’t come back out after that, though his door stays open still.

Sebastian naps on the couch and wakes up to the smell of soup. Jim’s stood in front of him, arm out like he’d been about to wake Sebastian up.

“You need to eat something. I figured at least if you’re going to be sick soup won’t be quite as awful coming up as something more solid.”

“You cooked for me.” Sebastian replies as he sits up.

“I heated up canned soup on the stove.” Jim protests. “Don’t make me sound like a good fifties wife.” Sebastian was far from doing that, but Jim’s never been particularly good at being domestic in any way, it would imply to heavily that he cares at all for Sebastian. Sebastian’s happy to let the truth slide under the radar for Jim’s sake and pulls the coffee table closer to him so that he doesn’t have quite so far to bring the spoon to his mouth. Jim doesn’t stay to watch him eat. Sebastian wishes he had, but he understands that the man can only expose himself so much before he needs to retreat. Even crumbs are enough for Sebastian, he knows that he’ll be well fed on Jim affection later on in life.

He watches a soap while he swallows down mouthfuls of tomato soup. By the time he’s ready for another nap. Before he does he sends an email to Sherlock from his phone. He knows the man well enough from all of Jim’s rambling, knows exactly how to phrase his ‘case’ in a way that will entice Sherlock into a meeting. It only takes a couple of minutes for Sherlock to respond.

_Come to 221 Baker street at earliest convenience._

_SH_

It feels like a betrayal. Sebastian tries not to dwell on that too much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you help me save mine now, I promise I won’t kill yours later.” He says instead. Sherlock frowns at that, but Sebastian continues. “You have my word that no harm will come to him. I’ll keep him safe.” 
> 
> “I’m not sure I follow.” 
> 
> “John Watson.” Sebastian says.
> 
> “I don’t know who that is.” 
> 
> “Not yet.” Sebastian concedes. “You will.”

Sebastian had hoped that the seizures would stop just as the pain previously has always faded away, when a week later the doctor comes to him after yet another one however, Sebastian’s not quite so sure. He’s getting sicker, his body isn’t meant to continue through it all again and again, and if he fails this time there’s no telling how his health will turn. 

Jim doesn’t let him out of his sight. It makes it impossible to sneak off to meet with Sherlock because Sebastian can’t so much as sneeze without Jim looking at least a little concerned for him. Sebastian would find it comforting if his health weren’t declining at such a quick rate. He’d want the attention too if it weren’t for the fact that he’s currently trying to sneak out to meet with Jim’s future arch nemesis. He settles for enjoying it while he can all the same, with Jim curled up in his arms most nights, never a soft word to say, instead showing his affection with limbs tangled in Sebastian’s own and bony fingers pressed into his ribs. 

Each night they go through the same routine. Sebastian lays there still enough that Jim thinks he’s asleep, Jim falls asleep content that Sebastian is still breathing, and then Sebastian watches the man sleep until he’s had his fix for the day. They go through their routine every night for a fortnight, until finally work demands Jim’s attention. He’s woken up by a late night call, Jim’s phone ringing loudly and ruining the peace of the night. Jim grumbles and rolls over, answering it with a tired and unimpressed greeting. He sits up slowly as the conversation continues, things sounding far from good, until finally Jim hangs up the phone. 

He looks to Sebastian with regretful eyes. 

“I need to go out.” Jim tells him. Sebastian nods, and realises only belatedly that the regretful look on Jim’s face is because he doesn’t want to go out. 

“I’ll be fine.” Sebastian promises him. “I’ll stay here and sleep. I assume you’re not going to let me come with you.” Jim shakes his head, and while Sebastian’s annoyed that he isn’t allowed to protect Jim yet, there’s a relief in knowing that he might finally be able to duck out and see Sherlock. It doesn’t matter the late hour, the message had said to come to him at whatever time was convenient for Sebastian, not for Sherlock. Hopefully the man won’t kick him out the moment he steps into 221B. With all this time to prepare though, Sebastian is fairly sure that he’ll be able to keep the detectives attention. 

All he needs to do is reveal a little more of his hand than he’d like to.

“I could be out all night.” Jim sighs as he climbs out of bed. “Perhaps even most of the day.” 

“Then I’ll enjoy the rugby without you complaining about me watching it for once.” Sebastian shrugs. “I’ve got you on speed dial. If anything happens I’ll call you straight away.” 

“I can somebody to be here with you.” 

“I’d rather not.” Sebastian grumbles genuinely at the thought. He doesn’t want a babysitter, doesn’t trust anybody else in their home anymore. He doesn’t know where Morrigan’s reach might have made it yet, and won’t risk sensitive information with people outside of the bedroom. 

“Are you sure?” Jim presses. Sebastian nods. 

“I’m going to have to learn how to deal with them sooner or later.” He says. “I’ll see about getting one of those service dogs or something; can’t just hide away in the apartment for the rest of my life.” 

“No, I suppose we can’t.” Jim relents. The ‘we’ shocks Sebastian, but he’s not stupid enough to make a comment on it. He’s just glad that Jim and he are in this together. 

“You go stop the world from caving in.” Sebastian tells him. “I’ll keep the bed warm.” 

Jim will never know he’s lied him. Sebastian just hopes that it’s worth the lie in the first place. 

Jim does eventually leave, not because he’s stops to check on Sebastian at least a dozen times, but because as always he spends time perfecting his appearance, slotting together the perfect outfit for his grand reveal, for that moment he struts in to waggle his finger in somebodies face seconds before ordering them dead. Sebastian wishes that he could be there to pull the trigger for Jim, but he knows that right now he’d be more of a hindrance. Once he’s got a better action plan for how to deal with his steadily worsening condition, then he’ll be able to join Jim again. Doing it before then would be a mistake that could cost Jim his life, and Sebastian isn’t that stupid that he’d rush in too early. 

Jim gives him a kiss goodbye on the forehead and gives him a stern look. 

“Stay in bed.” He commands as he leaves.

“Yes-sir.” Sebastian lies. He counts to one hundred before getting out of bed, and checks the hall carefully before heading out. The taxi ride isn’t a long one, and soon enough Sebastian is stood in front of 221B. He’s tired and sore, and doesn’t want to think about what might happen if he has another seizure, but he still knocks at the door, predictably to no answer. 

“You told me to come at my earliest convenience.” Sebastian calls through the door, loud enough that if Sherlock is awake he’ll hear it. “This is the earliest I could make it. I couldn’t get away until now.” 

There’s movement from behind the door and after a minute or two the door is opened to let him in. Sherlock gives him little more than a once over before stepping away expecting Sebastian to follow after him. Sebastian does. He closes the door behind him and follows Sherlock over to the two armchairs by his fire. 

The man doesn’t look like he’s been woken up and so Sebastian doesn’t feel particularly guilty for showing up at such an appalling time. If anything it probably helps add to his intrigue. Sherlock studies him, each inch of Sebastian is devoured by that knowing gaze and yet Sebastian doesn’t feel at all seen. How can he be when what’s going on around him is the impossible.

“Your email was interesting.” Sherlock begins. 

“Wouldn’t have replied if I didn’t make it enticing.” Sebastian cuts him off. “I know what makes you tick.” 

“You do.” Sherlock hums. Sebastian can tell he’s not used to somebody being able to read him like a book. Not that it’s of Sebastian’s own merit. He might be plenty clever, but not that sort of clever that can pull apart a man quite as easily as Jim or Sherlock might. 

“I don’t have much time. I’m not here to sit and chat.” Sebastian adds. 

“You said you knew something about the murder of Carl Powers.” Sherlock is quick to get to the point, there’s a look in his eyes that says he knows Sebastian will walk if he thinks he’s taking too much time. “What makes you say it was a murder? They ruled it as an accident.” 

“I know who did it.” Sebastian says. It’s a betrayal of the highest degree, something Jim’s entrusted him with. He needs to use it though, he’s desperate enough to use it to keep the man safe. 

“You know who did it.” Sherlock repeats back slowly. “Who?” 

“I’m not telling you.” Sebastian shakes his head. “But you’re clever, you’ll work it out if I point you in the right direction.” 

“What’s to stop me from not helping you if you won’t tell me?” 

“You want the vindication that you’re right. Not just from a stranger. From the police as well.” 

Sherlock chases praise, even if he’d deny that he does. Sebastian know that the information that he’s correct isn’t enough in this case. It was one of the first things Sherlock looked into, sure as a cocky teenager that he was right, that Powers was murdered. He’ll want others to know. 

“What do you need help with?” Sherlock asks. Sebastian almost lets out a sigh of relief. He keeps it buried in his throat, lest the man tell too much from it. 

“I need you to find somebody for me.” He says. “She calls herself Morrigan.” 

“From the Irish folklore? Or is at another pseudonym?” Sherlock asks casually.

“What?” Sebastian feels his heart-rate spike. Of course Morrigan has some deeper meaning, of course it fucking does. “What do you mean from the Irish folklore?” 

“The ‘Great Queen’” Sherlock offers unhelpfully. “I assume she’s put somebody important to you in danger? Or are you hoping to win her favour in some pending war.” 

“I- no. No she’s trying to kill somebody that’s important to me.” Sebastian’s plan is quickly derailing into something more hurried. “I need to make sure she can’t do that.” 

“And how do you plan on ensuring that?” 

Of course. Sherlock isn’t going to help him kill somebody. 

“If you help me save mine now, I promise I won’t kill yours later.” He says instead. Sherlock frowns at that, but Sebastian continues. “You have my word that no harm will come to him. I’ll keep him safe.” 

“I’m not sure I follow.” 

“John Watson.” Sebastian says.

“I don’t know who that is.” 

“Not yet.” Sebastian concedes. “You will.” 

He doesn’t know why hearing that Morrigan actually holds some sort of importance makes him want to go even further than he already is to protect Jim, but it feels like the right move. If she can travel back in time, Sebastian needs to kill her before she can. He needs to intervene and work out what she wants with Jim so that she can stop it. 

Jim had shot himself last time, prevented her from getting whatever it was that Morrigan wanted. That means that Jim has what Morrigan wants. It means that this time around she knows that he has it too. 

“You want me to help you on the promise that you won’t harm somebody I haven’t met yet?” Sherlock quirks an eyebrow, but Sebastian still has his attention. 

“If I told you how I knew you’d think I was mad.” Sebastian replies weakly. “I just need you to find her for me. I’ll tell you what I know about Carl Powers, and I’ll not harm a hair on John Watson’s head.” 

He’ll also put a bullet in Sherlock to get rid of him, but Sebastian hasn’t promised not to harm Sherlock as well. 

“I would like to hear how you know all the same.” Sherlock says stubbornly. Sebastian knows he won’t get anywhere if he doesn’t give Sherlock at least a bit of information. 

“I’m a time traveller. I think.” 

“You think?” Sherlock quirks an eyebrow. Sebastian knows he’s losing the man already. 

“That’s how I know about Watson. I know all sorts of shit about you I don’t want to know, because somewhere in the future- look, I know it’s wild, but it’s the truth. I’ve gone back in time five times now. I’m trying to keep somebody alive, and I can’t do that if I don’t find out where Morrigan is.” 

“You don’t look like you’re on any narcotics.” Sherlock hums in reply. Sebastian clenches his fist and does his best not to punch the bastard in the face. He needs Sherlock, there’s nobody else who can do what he does. 

“I’m telling the truth. You’ll see, Watson will walk into your life one day. You two will run about solving cases. Look what do I have to tell you to get you to believe me? Your brother is Mycroft Holmes, you’ve had trouble with addiction most of your life, you run a shitty blog that nobody cares about at all. As of this year you’ve solved three hundred and eighty four cases, and the reason you want the Carl Powers case is because it’s the only one you haven’t managed to solve.” 

Sherlock listens to Sebastian as he gets increasingly more desperate to convince the man he’s telling the truth. He knows it’s mad, knows there’s no reason to believe what Sebastian is saying, but he needs Sherlock on his side. 

“I can pay too.” He offers weakly. “More money than you could ever want. I know that’s not why you take the cases but if it’s any incentive at all it’s yours. Sherlock stares at him with that infuriating all knowing gaze before sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a wide, comfortable stance. 

“This is all personal information, information you could have found out using the right avenues.” 

“Yeah well I didn’t exactly think to memorize lottery tickets and races can be fixed.” Sebastian replies back coldly. “I figured telling you things about yourself might be better.”

“You don’t like me very much and yet you know all about my work life.” 

“I also know you wet the bed when you were nine because the person I’m trying to protect sat down with your parents to find out all about you.” Sebastian replies. “I know about Redbeard too.”

That stops Sherlock in his tracks. Sebastian can’t help the relieved smile on his face. 

“You believe me now?” He asks. 

“I- You certainly know a lot about me.” Sherlock replies. 

“I know I’m asking for you to put a lot of faith in my telling the truth, but I need you to believe me. I need your help, you’re the only option I’ve got. You’re not even an option I want. We’re not friendly in the future.” 

“For information on Carl Powers and for the protection of John Watson?” Sherlock confirms. 

“Protection for John from me only. If he pisses somebody off unrelated to me or my employer, that’s not covered by our deal.” Sebastian corrects. “Is there a fee?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock hums. 

“And you agree to find her for me no matter what?” 

“I do.” Sherlock nods. The relief that pours off Sebastian must be visible, because even Sherlock in all of his stony disinterest in people takes notice. Sebastian checks his watch and stands, nodding to himself. 

“I can’t stay. You know how to contact me. I’ll send you details on Morrigan as soon as I can. I really need you to find her, Holmes, it’s the only way I can fix all this.” He leaves, checking his watch again. Jim’s probably still out, but he doesn’t want to waste any time. 

By the time he’s home the realisation of what he’s done sinks in. There’s a mix of guilt and anticipation that makes it impossible to get back to sleep. Instead Sebastian takes his laptop and starts his own research. If Morrigan can time travel without the tea, Sebastian needs to find out how. He’s sure there’ll be a forum of people somewhere, he just needs to dig deep enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Sebastian has never been good at research. He’s good at scouting out locations for hits, knows everything he needs to know about the weather and the climate, about how busy it’ll be, about the best position to shoot in; but outside of research for a job he’s at a loss of what to do. He doesn’t know which forums are the best to check, doesn’t know what to type in to find an answer that offers him any sort of context. He starts with the basics and types in ‘time travel’ which brings up a metric tonne of useless information, movies and people speculating, articles about people who claim to have time travelled but not one of them contain anything about drinking tea to get back. They all talk about technology yet to be made, or secret projects run by the government. It’s no help to him at all, and the further Sebastian scrolls the more he’s convinced that nobody outside of him has ever actually time travelled at all. It’s a lonely thought and not one that is at all comforting. 

He types in Morrigan next and realises that there is, in fact, a Celtic goddess with the same name. He doesn’t like the implication behind her, the idea that fate could have anything to do with the three of them being so intertwined or even that fate exists at all She’s also the Goddess of war, according to Sebastian’s brief search, which checks out considering she certainly seems down for a fight. Of course, Sebastian doesn’t actually believe that the Morrigan they’re dealing with his a Goddess. If she was to come from anywhere that’s not earth it’d be hell. 

Sebastian’s abandoned the idea of both long ago, but then again he also hadn’t believed in time travel either, so there’s that. 

He tries a handful of other phrases that don’t offer him any more clues to what’s going on, and even goes so far as to type in ‘tea made me time travel’ but quickly realises that all that brings is a lot of people talking about times they’ve had illicit drugs and had some sort of trip. Sebastian very much doubts that’s what’s happening since that means his own mind is letting him fail again and again. 

With no luck there Sebastian considers other options to try and explain what’s going on, what’s happening to him. After a beat, he types ‘reincarnation’ into google. It comes up with what he’d expect, discussions and explanations about different religions and beliefs, but there’s nothing about people coming back to life, and certainly nothing about drinking tea, but what he also finds is a link to some small chat room where a handful of people with pseudonyms talk about their experiences with immortality. With their conditional immortality. 

He reads through it and then opens another tab to type in ‘alternate realities.’ It’s too vague of a search so he tries ‘alternate realities, immortal’ and then ‘multiple universes, immortal’ That seems to yield more results, though it’s hard to tell at first glance what is real and which is just people speculating about things. He reads through as many as possible in desperation, pleading to himself that he’ll find the answer buried amongst a google search. 

Sebastian knows that he’s way over his head when he ends up reading through forums of people who claim to be immortal. It’s obvious that some of the rooms are filled with people who are just having a bit of fun, talking about famous cases, and some are people playing make believe, role playing immortal characters as part of some larger story. There’s also a handful of forums that at first glance look like they’re arguing about immortals and their existence, but when he digs further Sebastian finds that they’re talking about books or TV shows rather than anything set in reality. 

He scours the sites for anybody under the name Morrigan but there’s very little to be found. What he does find it at least one chat-room that looks to be legitimate broken up into different rooms where people talk about their supposed experiences as immortals jumping from one reality to the next. There are rooms where people talk about the way they died, and one where people try for the most ridiculous death they can manage. There are others who talk about long lives with loved ones, with the pain of constantly returning and having to find their loved one and convince them to love them all over again. It’s sad to read through and Sebastian is painfully aware of what that’s like, never really knowing where he stands with Jim or if his own changes will affect their relationship in some way that can’t be undone. 

What he realises though is that these people, if they really are immortal like Morrigan seems to be, if she is one of these immortals that comes back when they die, and if she’s landing in realties and Sebastian is chasing her across, there may not be any way to stop her. What’s worse is that if Morrigan dies and comes back somewhere where Sebastian doesn’t know what’s going on, Jim’s certain to die. 

He remembers what Morrigan had said to him in the restaurant, the threats that she had made. If he’s unlucky enough to come back at the wrong time, Sebastian could end up on the wrong side with Jim in front of him. The thought makes him sick. He can’t lose Jim, but he especially can’t let Jim die at his own hand just for some sick joke for that woman to enjoy. She’s immortal, but Sebastian doesn’t think that he is. The people in the chat rooms remember their past lives and don’t come back midway through a life already lived. When they die they start over as a baby. When Sebastian drinks the tea he’s transported through to another version of himself. If he dies without the tea that’s it, the game is over, he won’t even know to try again. 

If Morrigan dies she just has to wait until she’s old enough and then can go after Jim again. 

But it doesn’t make sense. 

What would an immortal want with Jim Moriarty? It doesn’t make sense why she’d chase him of all people. And if Morrigan is an immortal how the hell is he supposed to kill her? 

It’s all way too much for Sebastian to even hope to understand. He’s listened to Jim talk about all sorts of theoretical things and never once understood a word being said. He’d enjoyed listening, but had never really absorbed anything Jim mentioned. Now he wished he had; he can’t just bring it up and expect Jim not to ask questions, but Jim never talks about those sorts of things when he has something interesting going on in his life. 

Instead, Sebastian is going to have to use his limited understanding of theoretical physics -being none- to try and solve the problem. 

It’s as he’s staring at his laptop that Sebastian realises that explains why things have been out of place. Why mugs have been in the wrong cupboard, why drawers aren’t always how he remembers them being organised. They’re tiny little changes to the world, choices made that shape the entire world around them. Jim’s spoken about that before he’s sure. If you have two pathways to go, your choice will make the world split off into those two options, into an option if you didn’t go down either, and an option for every other thing that could possibly happen. 

Sebastian wonders in how many of those worlds Jim and he met. He wonders if in any of them they get to live a long and happy life. There’s not as much comfort in the thought as Sebastian would like. He wants that happy ending, and he’s going to work hard this time to get it. 

Knowing he won’t get very far looking up things he doesn’t understand Sebastian tries one last search, one he has a little more of an understanding of. Not much, but more than the multi-verse. He types in ‘alternate universe tea transportation?’ It wields exactly three results. 

The first is the address of the store Sebastian’s been to so many times now. 

The second is a chat-room for ‘tea travellers’ 

And the third is an academic paper written by a Colonel S. Moran, published 1893.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the fic please feel free to comment or leave kudos! Updates to come semi regularly, hopefully at least once a week from now on :)


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